


More Than Magic, I Am Human

by Swlfangirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Attempted Sexual Assault (in the past briefly mentioned), Emissary Courting Freeform, Emissary!Stiles, M/M, Multi, Spark Stiles, Talks of Violence, Vernon Boyd is a precious resource and Stiles had to save him <3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:02:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23442322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swlfangirl/pseuds/Swlfangirl
Summary: He loves his magic, his spark, his wit and intellect but sometimes every single bit of it is a curse, more so when having to deal with anyone significantly less intelligent than himself.(Which honestly is just my forever mood...) -Author.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Jackson/Ethan, Pre-slash Lydia/Parrish, background pairings include: - Relationship, kira/malia
Comments: 71
Kudos: 460
Collections: Sterek to read during social distancing





	1. I'm A Little Teapot

**Author's Note:**

> So this was based off a thing I saw on Facebook and then it just really got out of hand. I'll try to post a link to the photo somewhere but no guarantees it will work. I also have some text screenshots filtered in here... if they don't work lemme know and I'll add the text version back in but its like 3 am and I don't want to if I don't have to right now. 
> 
> Sorry if there's mistakes, I edited til I wanted to claw my eyes out (meaning I read through the whole thing once I finished it after like two months of this stuff) but here we are. 
> 
> Hope you like it!

Stiles nods for what feels like the hundredth time, holding his tongue whenever the guy moves even further into his space. He’s been doing these stupid meetings for what feels like forever now, despite his protests, and each one is seemingly worse than the last. He doesn’t even bother to try to talk anymore, whatever he has to say is obviously not important. It’s all about what they can do for him, how they can provide, how he can have his pick of any of their single wolves.

It’s barbaric, and honestly...more than a little ridiculous. 

Stiles knows himself okay, he’s no prize. Well, he is in certain areas but just being a spark is not going to be enough to keep some asshole beta from clawing his face off when they find out he can’t sit still for more than ten minutes at a time, less when stressed. Not to mention that he’s forgetful, actually he’s a pretty big asshole so he’s certainly not winning any personality contests and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. 

He loves his magic, his spark, his wit and intellect but sometimes every single bit of it is a curse, more so when having to deal with anyone significantly less intelligent than himself. 

“Can I get you another drink?” the guy asks, likely hoping to get him drunk. Unfortunately for him, Stiles has a tolerance spell going on right now and for as long as his magic holds out, he’ll keep his wits about him no matter how many drinks the guy pours down him. 

He just nods, hasn’t said more than twenty words since it started, which is still probably ten more than the last meetup with a potential Alpha, though he did have to hand it to that guy, at least it was at a coffee shop and not some underground supernatural nightclub.

He really just wants to go home. 

After another half an hour of listening to the guy’s inflated ego diatribe, Stiles finally gets a reprieve. Someone from his pack calls him and requests him to come back immediately. Stiles is so grateful that he practically begs the guy to let him find his own way home and to go take care of his pack. 

Then he promptly makes his way to the bar. 

It’s a nice place and while he would normally love to get his groove on or whatever, he hates that his experience is tainted with emissary courting bullshit. 

“Please tell me you have some sort of fruity drink with copious amounts of sugar?” he asks, nearly falling onto the bar. 

“Oh I think you’ve had enough, Bambi…” says the blonde behind the bar with a wicked grin. 

“No no, this...this is not drunk, this is my gratefulness to be out of  _ that _ entire interaction,” Stiles assures her, blinking up at her with a pitiful pout on his lips. “Please,” he begs. 

“Alright, but I swear, if Boyd has to drag you out of here I’m gonna be pissed.” 

“Thank you! You beautiful goddess, what are you, Elven Queen, Angelic Priestess?” he teases, already pretty sure that she’s a werewolf. 

“Mmm, close…” she says, leaning further across the bar to get to his ear. “I’m Catwoman, shhh.” 

“Ahh Selina, how very nice to meet you, I’m a huge fan,” Stiles says, laughing a bit when the blonde just throws her head back and cackles. 

“I bet you are,” she says after a minute, handing over exactly what he asked for, something artificially bright blue in a huge glass that holds the promise of being chocked full of sugar and other unpronounceable chemicals. 

After he takes a big slurp Stiles groans, “Yes, yes this is what I needed,” he says, and while she isn’t actively looking at him, having other people to serve, Stiles is still pretty sure she hears him all the same. 

“Take it easy, she won’t give you another one...” says someone who just pops up beside him, no warning whatsoever. 

Just a few months ago Stiles probably would have been startled enough to fall off his seat and curse, but as it stands he just meeps and slams his toe against the solid wood bar causing another loud noise of pain while in the process of stubbing it, even through his chucks. 

“Fuck shit, fuck-sorry,” he says, wincing toward the man that appeared out of nowhere. Though really, he should be the one getting the apology. 

“You’ve had twice as much as we would usually give you.”

“Well I appreciate the thought, even if I can’t feel any real effects of the alcohol...the sugar is nice for my magic,” Stiles says, nursing the drink a little more slowly with the added potential of conversation. 

“You’ve had half a dozen of  _ our _ drinks, and you don’t feel it yet?” the guy asks, in a skeptical tone, which is fair. It  _ is _ a supernatural type bar. So he imagines things are much stronger here. 

“Spell,” he says, as if it explains everything and it does to him but it seems to not be as enlightening on the other guy. “When that guy I was with earlier, mentioned a club...I figured he was probably going to try to ply me open with liquor, so I did a little spell. It keeps me sober and clear headed so long as my magic is around, and not to brag but I’ve got plenty to last me till I get home, into my own bed, and safely let the spell go.” 

“Smart…” the guy says, and Stiles is about to grin smugly until the guy opens his mouth and says, “But what happens if you have to use magic and then you run out?” 

“Well-honestly-I hadn’t thought of that,” Stiles says, and then just like that, a fight breaks out in the bar and the guy beside him takes off in a mad dash to the middle of the dance floor where two  _ somethings _ are circling each other, one with claws and fangs the other, holy shit is that a tail? Fuck Fuck Fuck. 

Before he can even think better of it Stiles throws barriers around them all separately and moves closer, needing to make sure that everyone is safe. 

He gets there and the cute, dark skinned wall of muscle that had been keeping him company is on the floor with gashes to his stomach. He pushes the barriers out a little so that everyone gets out of his way without having to shout over the music and drops to his knees beside the guy. 

“Shh it’s gonna be okay, we can get this taken care of,” he says, as the guy’s body is trembling, probably from blood loss and shock. Stiles winces a bit at the sight of blood but immediately puts a hand to his stomach and warm white energy leaves him as his healing magic begins to do its job. “Just a little more...then you should be able to heal, werewolf right?” 

There’s a soft nod and Stiles smiles.

Once he’s done everything he can for the wolf, who he assumes is Boyd the way catwoman rushed forward and called out after him until Stiles lowered the barrier and let her through. “He should be okay, just...maybe rest here for a few minutes,” he advises. 

Some people have left, well a lot of people have left, but not all of them. Some are staring at him in curiosity and some in horror, but he’s getting used to that. 

“You two, what’s going on here…” 

Both of them start talking so Stiles rubs his temple and groans. 

“Alright, one at a time, you first Lizard Boy,” Stiles says, effectively pulling a hand up to silence the angry werewolf. 

“He’s harassing me and my mate, and violating a restraining order to do it…”

“A...restraining order? Seriously?” Stiles asks, because that’s a new one. 

“I’m a lawyer, asshole, it’s what I do...of course we’ve taken legal precautions,” the guy says and then suddenly his face starts to look familiar. 

“Holy shit..you’re-Whittmore, J-Jackie Jason?” 

The guy rolls his eyes but eventually provides the thing that makes the little lightbulb, well more of a flash bomb but whatever, in Stiles head go off. 

“Jackson Whittemore.” 

“That’s it!” 

The werewolf made an obvious sound that clearly meant it was his turn but seeing as how Jackson had already shifted back to his human skin and the werewolf was still very much wolfed out, Stiles ignored him a little longer. 

“Hey don’t you guys have that catchy jingle,-” 

“If you value your internal organs, you won’t sing it,” Jackson says, clearly a threat despite the fact that he has to know Stiles has more than just mountain ash barriers up his rolled up sleeves. “I lost a bet...two more weeks and you’ll never hear it again.” 

“Aww, that’s too bad, I really like it.” 

Jackson gives him a once over and then looks him directly in the eye and says, “Of course  _ you _ do,” as if he’s talking to the scum on his shoe. 

Stiles makes what he’s sure is an unpleasant face but then turns his attention back to the werewolf because lizard boy is pissing him off. 

“Alright, your turn…” he says, and to make it fair he puts the same silencing charm on Jackson for the duration as well. 

“He’s got my twin brother and he won’t let me see him!” the guy says, practically roaring as he does. 

“Is your twin brother his mate?” Stiles asks, because if not he and lizard boy are going to be having a very different discussion.

He watches as the wolf growls and then turns his head away like he’s anticipating drinking poison, but then finally admits that yes, his twin brother is Jackson’s mate. But then he’s snarling at the edge of his barrier yelling about how that doesn’t give him the right to keep him away from his  _ family _ , which Stiles would agree with but he feels like there’s more to this than meets the eye. 

“When was the last time you saw your brother?” Stiles asks, expecting a quick answer but the wolf just stands there and stares at him incredulously. He waits for a few beats longer before removing Jackson’s charm and points to him for an answer. 

“Ethan calls him every day, they Facetime and Skype all the time but they haven’t been face to face in over a year because the last time they  _ were _ , this asshole kidnapped him and tried to get him to join up with some fucking psycho Alpha pack,” he says, clearly still pissed about it all which is...well that’s more than fair. 

“I said I was sorry, I just want to see my brother!” 

Stiles silences them both because clearly this was going to take a lot more mediating than he has in him for the night. 

“You, you’re the one that clawed up Boyd’s stomach, yes?” he asks, though he already knows the answer. 

The werewolf rubs at his neck, quickly backing out of his beta shift as if he’s ashamed...which he should be, he hurt Boyd! Stiles is seriously feeling like Rosa with Arlo, and he really wants to see the guy pay for that, but he forces himself to be a little more impartial. 

“Catwoman, Boyd...you want me to call the council? I kinda have an in with one of the members...” he asks, both hearing and feeling the collective gasp in the room since someone has apparently turned off the music. 

Immediately, Erica says yes but Boyd vetoes it with a quick and firm no. “Erica, I-I got in the way. I’m not sorry I did, Aiden was definitely trying to hurt Jackson but, I’m fine to let our  _ Alpha  _ deal with it,” he says, which got Stiles attention given how freaked out this...Aiden guy was at the mention of their Alpha. 

Consider Stiles intrigued, well that was mostly a constant mood for him, but still. 

“Alright then, consider yourself lucky...Aiden; and a piece of advice. If you sincerely just want to spend time with your brother face to face, there are supernatural mediators out there, ask one of them for a little help and you’ll be surprised how far that will get you, now go.” Stiles says, pointing him toward the exit with a rough push of his magic.

As soon as Aiden is down the street and out of reach, he smiles at the people around him and then crumples onto the floor like a used up rag doll. 

Fuck Boyd for having good questions, and then his own bad luck, or fate, or whatever gods were waiting to fuck him over, for pushing him to find out the answers.

His hangover is going to be a bitch!

* * *

Stiles wakes up feeling surprisingly well given that he almost immediately recalls the circumstances of the previous evening, as if his still sleep-addled brain wants to remind him how painfully underprepared he was for the big showdown last night; quickly and with as much force as possible. 

_ ‘Yeah yeah, I’m an idiot, I know.’ _ he says to himself, scratching idly at his stomach under what has to be the softest shirt he’s ever had the pleasure of wearing which...wait what? Stiles blinks down at his torso and finds a strange material over him which...okay that’s a little bit of a concern. But before he can properly freak out he finds a quite frankly detailed Q&A sheet on the nightstand beside him with the startling headliner that reads:

**_“DON’T PANIC!”_ **

It’s not that Stiles takes his orders from Q&A sheets very often or anything but it’s weird enough that it gains his attention and focuses him on something other than the panic he initially felt so he guesses it works all the same. 

As he reads further he becomes more and more amused and the panic washes away.

**** _ There’s headache meds in the drawer if you need them, and an unopened bottle of water along with them.  _

_ The bathroom is directly across the hall but if you can’t make it that far please use the waste basket nearby. _

_ I know you probably have some questions but we’ve shortlisted it for you to reduce confusion and anxiety.  _

**_Where Am I?_ **

_ In one of the spare bedrooms of the Alpha’s house. Boyd, the bouncer you saved, brought you here.  _

**_Where is my?_ **

_ Phone? It’s plugged into the outlet across the room, it was dead when I noticed it.  _

_ Clothing?” You removed most of it yourself during a very robust rendition of I’m a little teapot...wherein you took the pour me out a little too literally and got sick all over what you actually left on. There was briefly photographic evidence, but I made sure Erica, sorry “Catwoman” deleted it from her phone. Your clothes are now in the washer/dryer depending on when you wake up, which can be found downstairs off to the left of the kitchen.  _

_ Dignity? Sorry...I’m not sure you’ll be getting that back anytime soon. _

**_What now?_ **

_ Whatever you want _

_ Sneaking out is an option, if you want to go we’ll pretend this never happened. At least I will.  _

_ You can stay in bed, relax, after your heroics last night the least I can do is allow you to recharge. _

_ If you insist on turning down my hospitality, I’ll either drive you home or you can call someone to come get you; address is on the pile of unopened mail in the fruit bowl...where fruit should be, yes I know.  _

_ The bathroom is open if you wanna shower. _

_.  _

_ There’s food, but please don’t burn down my kitchen.  _

_ Oh and there’s a dog (Sargent, Sarge for short) who loves to cuddle and play tug; he will bring you the toy, you won’t have to ask.  _

_ Sincerely, _

_ A grateful Alpha.  _

Because he’s freaking out less, Stiles rolls over in bed and snuggles deeper under the covers. He isn’t exactly looking forward to meeting the Alpha after what was clearly an embarrassing night, but also, the bed is like super fucking soft and the sheets are better than any he’s ever had before, and it just...it’s so damn warm. He doesn’t want to get up, maybe not ever. 

If it wasn’t for his full bladder, and the fact that he needs to check in with his dad, Stiles is pretty sure he’d sleep for at least another couple hours. As it is, there are things he needs to do. So he crawls out of bed, shoots a quick text off to his dad to let him know everything is okay, and then ventures out toward the bathroom across the hall.

He looks around but there’s no one to be seen so he does what he needs to do and smiles when he finds a post it stuck to the mirror: 

_ New toothbrushes, combs, and misc items can be found in the basket under the sink _

_ Please don’t judge me on my sister’s taste... _

  
  


Stiles smiles down at the note and proceeds to root through said basket, trying his best not to make a mess of everything. He takes what he needs and puts the rest back, before hopping into the shower and trying to make himself feel more human. Though, nothing will really do that until coffee, he  _ really _ hopes there’s coffee.

When he gets out, indeed feeling a bit more humanesque, he starts exploring; well less exploring, more looking for the stairs. It takes longer than he imagined to find them. What is this place, some kind of castle?

Stiles gets down stairs, four flights of them! Holy crap it is a castle! Well it’s a cabin, a giant fucking cabin. He’s honestly surprised to find the lower level so empty. It looks like a lot of people live here, probably a whole  _ pack _ of people if he’s guessing, and yet none of them are poking their heads out. 

He guesses that’s for him.

He appreciates it but also Stiles is kinda A+ Premium Extrovert so he wouldn’t mind meeting more of them, especially if Boyd and Catwoman were the test samples. 

Well, maybe coffee first. That should definitely be a thing.

He is relieved to find a pot already brewed, though he’s pretty sure the machine next to it is also a coffee maker; only a fancy pants one. Still, Stiles will take already made coffee over fancy coffee any day. 

He pours himself a cup, digs through the fridge to thankfully find some creamer and then smiles at what he’s pretty sure is the sugar canister holding a post-it note. 

_ Coffee is meant to be black, but if you must… _

  
  


Stiles is actually looking forward to meeting the Alpha, it seems like they have quite a sense of humor.

He mixes his coffee with a spoon he finds in the top drawer.. When he takes his first sip he moans, not only because yum warm caffeine but also, fuck, this coffee is heavenly. It tastes like chocolate and berries but even with the addition of his creamer and spoon of sugar, it’s not too sweet. 

It’s  _ really  _ good coffee. 

Stiles feels like he should be saying thank you to someone. 

He looks around in the fridge to see what he can find and is happy to see that there’s plenty of food to make breakfast for a wolfpack, or brunch he supposes. But how many of them are even there? Nobody has made a sound since he woke up...or the walls are soundproof, he’s not really sure which. Either way, that has to change, and soon. He’d actually like to thank his rescuers and their alpha.

He’s just about to call out for someone, or use his magic when he spies another post it. 

It’s kind of ridiculous at this point but something in his belly makes him feel giddy. He walks over to it and sees a panel with probably a dozen different buttons labelled with letters. 

The post it is gently placed over the A and says; 

_ A for Alpha _

_ Push if you need anything. _

  
  


Stiles does just that, because while he enjoys his solitude at times, he doesn’t want to feel like a leper in someone else’s home.

When he lets go of the button, nothing happens. He starts to think that maybe it’s some kind of buzzer and the Alpha will be down shortly. Before that idea sinks in though, he hears a small chuckle and a warm raspy voice come through a speaker he doesn’t see. 

“You must be the magic user, it’s good to see you’re finally awake,” he says, before coming back with a quick. “It’s an intercom, hold the button to talk.” 

“That’s me; Stiles Stilinski, magic user,” he answers, rubbing at the back of his head. “Actually I thought I’d make something to eat, wanted to know if it was just me or if the pack was hungry too...or if anyone else was even here…” 

“That’s very considerate of you, but before I ask everyone; tell me something Stiles. Are you someone who can actually cook or just one of those people who think they can?” he says and then cuts himself off abruptly. 

Stiles chuckles, “Guess you’ll just have to find that out, Alpha.”

“There’s half a dozen of us here, and at least that many that might show up if I put the word out,” he says, and then a deep rumbly laugh fills Stiles ears and he just wants more. “Are you sure you’re up to that?” 

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Stiles says, though he hopes they have a bowl big enough to quadruple his pancake recipe.

“I’ll get a number and be down in a few to help out, if that’s okay…” 

“Sure man, besides I’m probably going to need help navigating your kitchen. Something tells me I’ve run out of fun, yet instructional post-its,” he says, smiling to himself.

“See you in a few.”

“See ya.” 

Stiles goes back to his coffee and starts rooting around through the cabinets to see what he can find utensil wise and he is not disappointed. The kitchen is fully stocked with both food and supplies. He can also tell that someone is used to feeding a small army, or a pack of wolves, because not only is there a bowl big enough, They also have a griddle that is probably bigger than his actual stovetop. 

He hasn’t even really been able to take everything in when he hears paws on the floor and lets out a squeal of delight.

“Hi there bud, you must be Sarge, right?!” Stiles says, dropping to his knees quickly, eager to pet the precious pup. 

“I see you’ve met the welcome committee,” comes a voice from behind him and Stiles windmills and nearly falls on his ass, but catches his balance at the last second. 

“Holy crap! Are you trying to kill me?” Stiles asks, and then turns to see someone standing at the bottom of the stairs, smirking at him. “Yeah yeah, you scared the human. I take it you’re the big bad Alpha?”

“Well I don’t know about bad but… I usually go by Derek.” 

It’s cheesy, and lame but Stiles still snorts out a laugh because it’s also fucking funny.

“Everyone that can be, said they’d be here. I think mostly they just want to thank you for last night. Though, I should probably warn you that Erica put the word out that you were a, and I’m quoting her here, ‘hottie with an ass that won’t quit,” he says, with the most ridiculous version of air quotes Stiles has ever seen. 

“Well, I guess I’ll have to thank her for the compliment,” he says and he can feel a bit of heat snake up his neck. 

With a grin, Stiles finds a large package of bacon from the fridge, and when he sees half a pound of pork sausage he grabs it too. “So how many little wolfies are we expecting? Oh and I need to know now if there’s any allergies…” 

The Alpha seems to be doing a mental headcount and Stiles tries and fails not to find it absolutely adorable. “Fourteen will be eating, including you.”

“Alrighty then, we better get started,” Stiles says, and then turns to frown at Sarge. “Sorry buddy...we’ll have to play later. I have seen a hungry werewolf and I’d rather not see it thirteen more times, all at once.” 

“We’re not  _ all _ wolves,” Derek answers with an almost fond smile as if he’s thinking about his pack. “But close enough when it comes to appetites I guess, just don’t tell the girls I said that.” 

“I’ll make sure that’s the first thing I do,” Stiles snorts, as he continues to hunt down ingredients and utensils. He’s surprised to find that things are mostly where he expects them to be which is nice and convenient. It takes a few minutes but he starts browning the first skillet of sausage and puts the bacon into the oven before he can actually start mixing up his fluffy, delicious pancake batter. 

“You seem to know your way around the kitchen. Do you enjoy cooking?” Derek asks, and it’s probably the first thing Stiles has heard out of him that wasn’t full of snark.

“I do, mostly it’s just for me and my dad. Sometimes he’ll invite Parrish or Melissa over and she’ll bring Scotty making it four of us but that’s usually the limit...this is much more fun,” he says, sipping his coffee.

“You  _ prefer _ feeding an army?” Derek asks, as if it’s interesting which catches him a bit off guard.

Stiles shrugs, “I always wanted a big family. I enjoy it but I don’t want to cook professionally, I just  _ know  _ that would take all the fun out of it. But this? Yeah this is kinda nice. I’m looking forward to meeting your pack and seeing what they think.” 

“Well it smells great,” Derek says, chuckling to himself. 

“The only thing cooking is meat!” Stiles says, gasping as if he was affronted. 

“Like I said, it smells great.” 

Stiles just shakes his head and turns back to his kitchen tasks, letting Derek fill the silence, or mostly sit in quiet contemplation. 

Either way it works.

* * *

Once the food is done, plated, and still warm on the table; people start popping out every which way. Erica and Boyd, and someone who introduces himself as Isaac come down the stairs. Lydia, Allison, and an older guy named Peter emerge from behind the staircase. Jackson and who he guesses is Aiden’s brother given they look  _ exactly _ alike, enter through some sort of portal door that leads to hell, or a basement perhaps? Probably a basement but he’s not sure. He’s met Jackson, so he’s not giving up on the Hell idea. 

He’ll look into it later if it’s not too nosy. 

Even more packmates come through the front door. There’s Kira, a kitsune, with Malia, a were-coyote, on her arm. 

Stiles loves it. 

He’s just about to announce that the food is done when he does a head count and notices two are missing. “Who isn’t here?” 

“They’re running a couple minutes late but they are on their way, Cora got stuck in class and Liam had to wait for her so…” Derek answers, moving to take his seat at the head of the table. 

“Well don’t let me stop you, dig in,” he says, causing all of them to raise their eyebrows at him. 

“Have you not eaten with a pack before?” Derek asks, making Stiles feel momentarily insecure. 

“No?”

“It’s not a big deal, but usually the provider eats first, then the Alpha, then the rest of the pack. It’s...a little bit of an outdated tradition and we don’t  _ always _ stick to it but this is your first meal with us, and honestly we expected  _ you _ to treat it that way,” Derek says, and it helps, if only a little.

“Sorry, I’m kinda new to all this, I haven’t had much experience with full packs...not like this at least,” he says with a sort of half shrug. “So who’s the provider, cause you need to dig in!” 

Derek chuckles at him, catches his eye, and then quirks an eyebrow as if he’s waiting. 

“Oh! Oh it’s me...I provided ‘cause I cooked. Okay then, well..fill me up buttercup,” Stiles grins, holding his empty plate out to Derek. 

“This is literally the best day,” says someone, Stiles suspects it was Erica, but he’s just staring at Derek waiting for him to take the plate. He does, eventually, though he gives Stiles a look that says  _ something _ he’s just not sure what. 

“Stiles, is it?” Peter asks. 

As soon as Stiles can pull himself away from Derek’s green-hazel-gold eyes, which isn’t quite as soon as he probably should have, he turns his head toward the older man. “Yes?” 

“We have an excellent collection of books in the library, there’s some werewolf history in there, along with pack rituals, celebrations,  _ mating _ behaviors...if that’s the kind of thing you’d be interested in,” he says, like the offer of precious, typically coveted knowledge is nothing. 

“Uh...yeah? Fu-heck yeah, are you kidding me? I’ve been dying to get my hands on something that’s not just emissary courting light-,” Stiles says, digging into his plate of food, swallowing eagerly before he continues right on, “I mean, I’m not an idiot, I know the courting wasn’t anything like this, traditionally...and honestly I would really like to know where it all went wrong.” 

“Oh, that would be around the 1600s,” Lydia says, and Stiles turns to her, interest clear on his face. She just continues. “There was the attempted eradication of magic, otherwise known as hanging or burning every sorcerer or magic user that was reported,” she said, “Most people know about the Salem witch trials but unfortunately most of those women didn’t even have the gift, they were just attractive, intelligent, ambitious women that were obviously doing the devil’s work part time,” she adds sternly, as if she herself would love to just transport back into that era just to give those assholes a piece of her mind. Stiles decides he likes her almost immediately. 

“I knew that the trials were basically a big farce but I didn’t know about any other war on magic. We weren’t taught anything else in school and as I said before, the books I’ve been given were very...diluted and arbitrary,” he answers, taking another bite to give her time to respond. 

“Well not everyone needs the history lesson but there are books upstairs on the topic. Needless to say that with magic users nearly going extinct; emissaries became coveted. And then, as people do when it comes to rare resources, we started to get stupid about them.” 

“Right? I swear to Neptune if I have to hear one more time about how ‘big the Alpha’s yacht’ is, I’m going to just give up and go hide in a cave somewhere. 

“Neptune?” someone asks, he can’t see who. 

“It changes from day to day, I’m not really sure where I stand on the whole deity thing so I just rotate and pick whichever one I happen to be thinking of at the time,” he explains, and that seems to satisfy them. 

“You better not have eaten everything!” says someone coming from the living room after a loud slam of the door. 

Stiles just grinned, “You must be Liam, I’m Stiles, grab a seat there’s plenty left.” 

“Where’s Cora?” Derek asks, frowning a little and Stiles again finds himself thinking how adorable the Alpha is.

Liam shrugs as a response and then starts muttering something under his breath. Stiles can’t hear but Derek must, because he stands up and Stiles almost reaches out for him but he turns to face him and promises that everything is okay and asks that everyone continue eating. 

“So you say you’ve been courted recently?” Peter asks, and the look on his face, the ‘I’m innocent but totally not innocent’ thing makes him wonder if the man didn’t wait for Derek to leave solely to bring that up..

“Yeah, some packs contacted my dad and he really wants me to settle because my magic is a bit...restless,” Stiles shrugs, as if to say what can you do. “But he clearly didn’t do his homework beyond; they aren’t criminals. Not a single one of them has offered a decent conversation, let alone any hope for a future. Mostly, they’ve been douchebag rich assholes that think they can buy me or screw me into the pack, and on a few stellar occasions, both.” Stiles lets a shiver run down his back at the memory and replaces the sour taste in his mouth with warm, buttery pancakes. 

“Ah, I see. And because the Alphas were rich and had yachts you were against them?” 

“No way, I don’t care what they have or don’t have, but I’m not going to auction myself off to the highest bidder. My magic might not be at peace exactly, but I’m not dangerous and I won’t tie myself to a pack that only wants me as a status symbol, or is full of people I don’t trust,” he says, between bites of food. “Not a single one of them wanted to get to know me, well not  _ Stiles. _ Only the spark.” 

Everything seems to stop a little, but it only takes a minute to register.

“You’re a-” Lydia starts but then seems to recalculate, “Not your everyday magic user then. I thought maybe a mage, after hearing what happened at the club last night but I can see why you’re desirable to so many now.” 

Stiles waves her off, “Yeah yeah, big and powerful packs blah blah blah,” he says, “You know what I’d want if I were an Alpha?” 

“Do tell,” Peter says, and Stiles is almost curious why there’s only two people talking when so many are just sitting there. Not enough to bring it up but still curious.

“I’d want to make sure I wasn’t bat shit crazy, like some-well  _ most  _ powerful magic users. I’d want to test me, to make me earn a place at the table. Actually that’s exactly what I want to do. I want to prove myself, to prove I can take care of a pack. None of the rest of this shit matters if the pack has their backs to the wall and it turns out I’m useless,” Stiles says, shaking his head almost angrily. He hates thinking about how superficial the alphas have been. What he was meant to do...what he  _ wanted _ to do, was protect. 

“Do you not see the value of an established pack that doesn’t, well engage in supernatural mayhem, should we say?” Peter asks, and that’s fair. 

“Oh I would love to join a pack that never has any bad things happen to them, absolutely sign me up, but it’s just not feasible. Supernatural beings attract other supernatural beings, it’s a fact. Both history and science will tell you that most of these supernatural beings do not get along. There are exceptions of course. This pack for instance;” he says, cupping his coffee and letting it warm his tongue if only a little. “I’m sure you’re a special awesomeness that I can’t even understand Kira, but traditionally, you have to admit that this isn’t very common. More than likely if any of you were to cross paths with a Kitsune, it would rile up both shifter’s instincts, put you on edge, and inevitably it would lead to a fight.”

“So you’re saying we can never live in peace…” Jackson asks, and Stiles smiles that someone else has come to the table. 

“I’m not saying that at all. There can be years of peace, decades even, but it’s unlikely for anyone to live their lifetime without conflict; shifters and humans alike,” Stiles says, “All I want to know is that if something comes for the people I care about, that I can keep them safe.” 

“That’s very ambitious of you, Stiles.” 

Stiles turns around this time to see Derek smiling softly at him, a light haired brunette at his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“Stiles, this is my sister Cora. Cora, Stiles,” he says, pushing her gently toward the table. 

He tries not to be offended by the way she rolls her eyes and takes the other empty seat beside Derek and noisily drags it across the dining room floor to the other side of the table, but he definitely is. 

This is definitely about him.

“Cora, so nice to meet you. I can already see that we’re going to be the best of friends,” he says sarcastically and the whole pack chuckles a little but she glares at him with her teeth bared until Derek lets out a low rumble in his chest and she turns back to the food.

Stiles shrugs, “I’m more of an acquired taste, that’s okay. I can wait, I’ll wear you down eventually.

“Oh I like him, he’s going to stay,” Erica says, and a handful of the others nod encouragingly. 

“Everyone finish your plates, say thank you to Stiles for making breakfast, and then Cora and Boyd are on cleanup duty,” Derek says, and nobody disagrees despite Cora‘s frown. 

Alpha’s word is law, hmm go figure.

Stiles doesn’t think that’s going to work for him but Derek seems reasonable so he’s open to the idea of taking orders… 

Yeah, he can’t even think that with a straight face, so not happening. 

  
  



	2. Puppies and Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys read this day one I'm sorry totally forgot to add the last convo screenshot, It was almost 4 am, I can't be held accountable for my actions.

Stiles stays longer than he imagined he would, but he can’t be bothered to care. The pack is great and he’s having more fun getting to know them than he’s had in a long time. Derek and Peter are having a private conversation and he’s pretty sure it’s about him but he doesn’t mind. Everyone but Cora has been overly welcoming without being fake and he’s living for it.

This is the kind of pack he wants, though he’s not sure Derek would want that, regardless of how Cora is reacting to him.

Stiles doesn’t realize that they could already have an emissary until he’s half invested in proving himself to Derek and when the idea hits him he nearly crumbles under the weight of it. His heart must give him away because all of the wolves turn to stare at him, but he waves it off, pushing the panic back for another time. He refuses to have a mental breakdown in front of the people he wants to impress most.

Funnily enough it’s Cora who saves him, and he’s not sure if it’s because she thinks it will help or if she just wants to get rid of him but he’s not one to look a gift wolf in the mouth. 

“The library is upstairs. Jackson said you wanted to see it, c’mon,” she says, grunting at him as she passes by his seat on the couch.

Stiles follows her, surprising both of them it seems when he actually keeps his mouth shut for the duration of their little walk. At least until he steps inside and his jaw drops. “Holy Shiiii-zzz”

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” she says, shutting the door behind her. 

Stiles turns to look at her in confusion. “What exactly do I not have to do?” 

“Act surprised and impressed all the time. I know the Galavant pack and Mosier pack both courted you and they have libraries that make this one look like a toy box,” she says, huffing and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well I might have known that too if they would have told or shown me that. All I got from the Mosier Alpha was how _important_ it was to keep the old families on top, and how being an emissary to a descendant of ‘Greywolf’ would make me even more powerful,” he says, turning to face the shelves, gently running a finger along the spine of an old volume on werewolf war tactics and strategy. He pats it lovingly as if to say he’ll be back, because Stiles plans to devour it wholly if given half a chance.

“And yet you’re here...with our pack.” 

“I don’t need or want to be more powerful, Cora,” he says, shrugging. He doesn’t want to brag but he’s got plenty of juice as it is, anything else would just be excess. “I want to be _useful_. I want to take care of a pack that needs me and wants me there. As I already told your Alpha and most of the rest of you guys. I don’t want to be some status symbol for a pack I can’t trust.” 

“You use magic to hide your scent, why?”

“Because I know what it means to be human,” Stiles answers easily, as he continues to look over the titles along the winding shelves. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Cora asks, defensively. 

“Have you ever been purely human, Cora? Or are you a born wolf like your brother and uncle?” 

She grumbles a bit but eventually answers that she’s a born wolf as he suspected.

“Then you can’t possibly understand what I mean from a first hand point of view,” he says, and then flashes her a brilliant smile, “But for my new bestie, I’ll try to explain it anyway.” 

She glares at him but Stiles just shrugs it off and continues. “Scent is very important for shifters, you can communicate with your Alpha, your packmates, it even helps you when facing an enemy. You can know what you’re feeling and thinking without speaking and it’s useful, right?”

Cora nods, radiating skepticism like she doesn’t know where he’s headed with this.

“Well it doesn’t work that way for humans, not only does it put us at a disadvantage, not being able to smell what you smell, understand what you’re communicating, but it can also lead to massive miscommunications,” he says, “For instance...if a shifter; wolf or otherwise, leans too heavily on their sense of smell they will miss things right in front of their faces. I nearly got mauled by a member of one of the packs courting me because my body found someone attractive that every other part of me did not. If not for my magic, I-well I hate to think what might have happened.”

“We’re not _animals_ , we can distinguish the difference between scents and body signals and treat people with common decency,” she snaps back, because she’s defensive, he gets that. Still, she’s starting to grate on his nerves a little. She’s not getting it.

“You’re right, most shifters can...but some don’t think enough to ask questions...or they just don’t care,” he says, then finally admits what he’s been trying to hold back. “There’s a pack that has wanted me since I was fourteen. When it was clear that my father wasn’t going to let me enter into any kind of agreement until I was of legal age, they backed off, or so we thought,” he says, swallowing a bit, fighting off the feelings brought about by the memory of what happened. “What they actually did was send half naked wolves to me until my body reacted. That particular wolf, either thought that scent was the same as _consent, which_ it definitely is not, or was told to mate with me regardless. Even now, I’m not sure which and I don’t care to know,” he says, turning around until he could catch her eye. “There was one message I recieved loud and clear though, and now I make sure no one will ever use my scent against me again.” 

Cora looks properly chastised, but she doesn’t apologize, she just nods and then leaves him alone, which honestly is probably preferable. If she said she was sorry, Stiles would know exactly why and it would be meaningless.

He peruses the library a little longer, entranced by the titles on the shelf. They might not be as many as others have collected but the quality is fantastic from what he can tell at least. He’s very interested in spending a lot of time here if Derek will let him. He’s pretty sure he will, the Alpha’s a big softie, even if he buries it beneath the snark and broody eyebrows.

“Find anything you like?” 

“Everything, actually. If I could smuggle your library out of here I totally would.”

“Well no need for that, I’m sure you’ll be welcomed back with open arms,” he says, and Stiles knows it’s Peter, can tell by the slight smug disdain in his voice. 

“I’m not so sure about that but I’ll certainly try. These books, they’re...” 

“I know, I _am_ the one who collected them,” Peter says, and then there’s a noise from downstairs and he sighs before adding, “Lydia helped.”

Stiles snorts, “Of course she did. I can tell, you know? I can also see there’s quite a few volumes picked out by the Alpha himself,” he says, “but I guess Derek didn’t call you out on it.” 

“I have to admit, I’m intrigued and that doesn’t happen often. How did you know?” Peter asks. 

“People leave a residue, when they touch things. Supernatural creatures even more so. Often what’s been left behind is almost if not more important in some cases, than the thing itself.” 

“Well well, that is a neat little trick you have up your sleeve,” Peter says, sounding entirely too _intrigued_ for Stiles’ peace of mind. 

Sure, he thinks Derek’s pack would be a good fit for him if they want the same thing but Peter feels different. He’s not sure whether he wants to mate with him, kill him, or squeeze his magic out of him to bottle and sell it, or a very long list of other things Stiles’ brain has supplied since their first encounter. He tries not to let it ruffle him but he’s not very successful in that.

“And on that note, I think I should probably take off,” Stiles says, because he doesn’t need Peter getting any more creepy.

“Of course,” Peter says, graciously. As if he’s never been anything but gracious, and Stiles has to fight off an eye roll. “Do be sure to say your goodbyes to the Alpha before you go, I wouldn’t want you to offend anyone accidentally.”

Stiles doesn’t know what Peter is playing at but he’s already planned to say bye to everyone before he leaves so he ignores it and squeezes past Peter to leave the room. He has this nagging feeling that Peter knows something he doesn’t and it grates under his skin a bit but there’s not much he can do about it for now, so he just tries to ignore it and goes back downstairs.

He says his goodbyes to most of the pack with ease, they’re all where he left them but he has to track Derek down, well he thinks he has to but then he runs into Isaac and thankfully the little cherub points him in the right direction. As it turns out, Derek is in the garage waiting for him with a set of keys in hand. Yeah, that makes sense. Stiles probably should have thought of the ‘hows’ of going home but thankfully it looks like he won’t have to.

“My very own chauffeur Alpha, Alpha chauffeur, Alphaffeur? Whatever,” he says, waving a hand around to gesture that it was mostly irrelevant. “Really pulling out all the stops eh?” 

Derek just grunts and motions to the door, “Get in, Stiles.”

“Yessir! Alpha sir!” he says with a sarcastic salute, before actually following through because while the experience as a whole was pretty fun, his energy is waning and he wants to recharge at home with his own things and his own bed.

Derek slides in effortlessly beside him and slowly pulls out of the driveway, “You helped my pack when they needed it, without even knowing who they were, I won’t forget that.”

“Meh, it was more of a public safety concern, more than any kind of overture, but I do like them,” he says, and it’s true. He likes to think he’d have done the same for anyone, but he knows it was more about the fact that Boyd had been nice to him, and he didn’t want to see him get mauled.

“All the same,” Derek says, and it makes something in Stiles stomach clench because he says it with such seriousness that you’d think he was signing over a life oath or something crazy. 

“No worries, dude. Just like buy me some curly fries or something and we’ll call it good, or heck and this is just a suggestion, let me spend some free time in the library and I will owe you like a thousand,” he offers, not that he would ever require any form of payment to save Boyd. He likes Boyd, and Erica, and Isaac... _even_ _Jackson_ , and the rest of them too he guesses. Except maybe Peter, Peter would have to give him a reason that was better than, ‘I don’t want to die, Stiles,” before he’d consider saving him, but he’ll keep that little tidbit to himself. 

“You’re welcome in our den at any time until you ally yourself with a pack,” Derek says, his jaw clenching a bit like he doesn’t want to think about it. “At that point we’d need to meet somewhere else and discuss how to proceed. 

“Well no worries there, I’ve been on the market for a few years now and nobody has snatched me up,” he says, with a hint of bitterness in his tone.

“There’s no rush, you’re still young and it’s smart to make sure any prospective pack is the right place for you,” Derek says calmly, as if he’s some ancient wise old owl. 

“I know, and I’m not necessarily in any rush to magically bind myself to someone for life, but there are other aspects of being in a pack that I want to experience and my magic won’t let me forget it,” he says, “I’m a people person Derek, and I don’t know, I just think it would be nice to have a big family some day, y’know?” 

“Yeah,” Derek says, and it’s soft and warm but full of something that he thinks could be pain but doesn’t want to push. 

They spend the rest of the drive mostly in silence, small interruptions for Stiles to guide him in the right direction but otherwise quiet. 

It’s actually kind of nice. 

* * *

Derek watches Stiles disappear inside the house and feels a clench in his chest. It’s stupid, obviously but after so many years of nothing, of numbness, he notices it immediately. He’d felt it stutter a bit too, at the first sight of a sober, softer Stiles when he was petting Sarge and making himself at home in the pack kitchen. It was...it _is_ almost too much. 

Derek loves his betas, even his uncle usually, and he tries to make sure they know it but he hasn't reacted this way to anyone in nearly a decade. 

But he hears the thump..thump thump...thump loud and clear. 

His heart is saying hello and Derek is helpless to stop it. 

As he readies to pull out of the driveway something reflects a small beam of light back at him and he looks down to realize Stiles’ phone charger must have fallen out of his pocket. Resigning himself to an awkward return, he takes in a deep breath and heads for the door. 

Before he can knock, something stops him, freezing his hand mid air.

“-Really nice actually...I uh, I wish more packs were like them,” Stiles says, and there’s a small sad noise. “I don’t want to do this anymore, dad...I-this courting stuff it’s just, it’s not for me.”

“I get that kid, and I’m not saying no but we also have to talk about what’s going to happen with your magic if you can’t find the right pack,” Stiles’ father says, making Derek immediately feel guilty for listening in. 

He quickly forces his hand to the door and knocks, probably a little too loudly. 

Stiles opens it and Derek holds up his charger, still feeling a bit like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It wasn’t his conversation to hear and he shouldn’t have listened to even that much of it. 

“Oh thanks, Derek.”

“No problem,” he says, and then turns to go but hesitates at the top step, “Stiles wai-” he starts, but when he turns around Stiles is still there staring at him in that way that makes him feel as if he’s an interesting puzzle. Derek sheepishly rubs his hand on the back of his neck. He feels like a stupid teenager all over again. “Did you um, did you get everyone’s, well anyone’s number?” 

“Yeah, most of them actually, but you seem like the kind of guy that prefers his privacy so I didn’t ask,” Stiles answers softly, his voice, his body showing more insecurity than Derek has seen in him since they met. 

“Usually, but I make exceptions from time to time, phone?” he asks, holding his hand out. He’s grateful for werewolf reflexes that mean his steady palm isn’t shaking like his insides are. 

Stiles smiles brightly and passes it over, “Fair warning, I text _a lot_ so if it ever gets to be too much just ignore me or tell me to stop bothering you,” he chuckles. “I can take it.” 

“I will,” Derek lies, because he’s pretty sure Stiles could text him non-stop and he’d never complain about it. Thankfully, the spark doesn't have his ability to hear heartbeats. Both because Derek is sure Stiles would absolutely call him out on his shit but also because it means he can’t hear the way Derek’s heart is practically screaming his name. “See you around, Stiles.” 

“See ya, Derek.” 

When he makes it back to the pack house everyone stares at him until he flashes his eyes and tells them to mind their own damn business, which he knows they won’t do, but he has to make the effort anyway. 

He can’t stop thinking about what Stiles said, that he’s really going to just give up the courting. Derek is simultaneously excited and disappointed by the news. Stiles seemed to enjoy spending time with them, he made an extra effort to stick around even after he met the “societal” requirements and Derek knows that is a good sign even if Stiles has no clue how emissary courting typically works, which he doesn’t seem to. 

That thought gives him an idea….

Derek pulls out his phone and quickly dials his most trusted ally. 

“Satomi,” he says, with a sigh of relief. “It’s Derek Hale. I hate to bother you but do you still have those books Aunt Alice took with her?”

“I’m sure they’re here somewhere, but why ever would you need them, child?” she asks with a warm chuckle. 

“They would make an excellent gift for my ma-new friend.”

“Ah I see. That’s very good news indeed, Derek. I’ll have them cleaned up and sent over as soon as possible,” she promises and Derek has no doubts they’ll be there within a few hours. Satomi is the best Alpha on the west coast, maybe on any coast since his mom and Laura are both gone.

“Thank you, I’ll send a replacement gift as soon as I can find something up to your standards,” Derek grins, knowing she’d make a fuss about how it isn’t any trouble but he’ll send her something all the same.

He ends the call quickly after, not wanting to give the older Alpha time to question his _almost there_ slip of the tongue. 

* * *

Stiles withdraws himself from courting just in time. There’s a big gathering of some sort in a few weeks and he knows the word will get out and is anticipating his reprieve. The withdrawal means that no pack is allowed to contact him without his express permission and initiation of contact...so basically all those douchebag Alphas can fuck right off and he can still, hopefully, weasel some time in at the Hale Pack house. 

He’s going to try not to make a nuisance of himself but Stiles has never really understood self restraint, not as an actionable choice anyway. Sure he knows what it means but it makes absolutely no sense to deprive himself based on what, societal convenience? Thanks but no thanks, he’ll gladly take door number two where people have to tell him he’s being annoying if he’s being annoying. And he’s met enough of the Hale Pack to know that _someone_ will say it.; Cora most likely, but Jackson too he thinks. 

“Hey dad, I’m gonna head to the store, do you need anything?” Stiles calls out, as he grabs his wallet and keys from the table by the door. 

Stiles doesn’t wait long for an answer, but nothing comes so he steps outside. He nearly trips over something he doesn’t remember being there and when he thankfully catches himself before face planting into the porch, he sees a beautifully wrapped box.

“Ugh...don’t be creepy, don’t be creepy, don’t be creepy,” Stiles whispers to himself as he carries the box back inside the house as if it’s a bomb, or a collection of wolf inspired sex toys, which was actually something he recieved from a prospective pack. Because Stiles clearly hadn’t expected such a gift, he’d opened it in front of a whole station full of his deputies, with his father standing over his shoulder. It had been mortifying to say the least.

This time though, it feels different. He doesn’t know why, maybe it’s his spark, maybe something else but there’s a warmth in his chest and without thinking he snaps a quick picture before the bow is ruined when he mangles it in his attempt to get at the goods. Stiles has known himself for a long time so he doesn’t even make an attempt to leave anything intact.

When the top of the box is lifted off, Stiles gasps. His face contorts into a wide grin that he can’t suppress even by biting his lips. 

Emissary Compendium: Ritus et Ritualia

De Historia De Magia ad Lycanthropes

There are a few others but those two alone could keep him occupied for hours. Stiles’ eyes are already pretty much as wide as they go but then he reaches the bottom of the stack somehow, they get bigger.

_The Emissary’s Guide to Surviving Puppy Packs and Politics_

_Written By: Alice Abigail Hale._

Stiles has always loved books, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been so damn excited to read something in his life, including the final book in the Harry Potter series so...fuck-he’s got it bad. 

He takes out his phone and immediately sends a message to Derek

  


Stiles grins at his phone. He wants nothing more than to pull Derek in for a side hug, or a full on hug but that is probably at least mildly inappropriate. He isn’t sure, but he’s going to find out because he has _BOOKS!!_

Stiles immediately forgets his impending trip to the store in favor of settling in with Alice Hale’s handwritten diary. Thankfully, it’s neat and legible unlike Stiles’ scrawl. 

_Tips and Tricks from a Hale Pack Survivor_

_Tip #1:_

_An Alpha’s word is law_

_Unless you’re the Emissary_

_We are special that way._

_Tip #2:_

_A good Alpha listens to reason._

_If they aren’t listening, I’ve found a very small jolt of lightning under their feet to be an acceptable punishment._

_Adjust according to level of stubbornness._

_Hale’s are known for excessive levels of stubbornness and martyrdom._

_Immediately working to alter these behaviors is highly recommended._

_Tip #3:_

_Hale Alphas, (I’ve known three in total) find it difficult to let down their guard._

_You will need to earn their trust quickly_

_f you abuse that trust, I will personally find something eternal to bite you._

_Then proceed to make it as though you never existed, just so I can punish you for all eternity._

_This applies doubly if I’m no longer tethered to the earthly plane of existence._

_Trick #1 Halloween is to the Hale Pack as arrogance is to Wall Street:_

_One will not prosper without the other._

_Plan accordingly and take your Alpha by surprise._

_If you get caught, I am not responsible._

_If you don’t, I will expect a gift or offering of pumpkin and chocolate due to your overwhelming gratitude._

_Trick #2 Sometimes with Hales, you need to learn to anticipate and plan ahead._

_As previously mentioned, they are stubborn by default and can sometimes run into danger without a second thought._

_During times of peace, stockpile items that are easily transported and can be used with little to no effort and magic required._

_See pg 37 for Runes and Charms that have been most successful within the Hale line._

_Trick #3 If you are on the fringes of the pack, stay as hidden as possible for both self protection and protection of the pack._

_If you’ve somehow been tricked into marrying into this circus, stay so close that it feels wrong to be apart for even a day and count yourself lucky because you are._

_Hales don’t always love easy but they love hard and without condition._

_This has been your introduction._

_Sincerely, Alice Abigail Hale_

  
  


Stiles shakes his head in disbelief. The fact that Derek gave this to him. Does he even understand how much of a treasure it is? Stiles knows right away he can’t keep it forever but is still very eager to go through it and learn everything he can from the former Hale Emissary. 

Before he even tries to wrap his head around what he’s feeling; he digs into the volume, flipping quickly to the page of charms and runes referenced. He gasps, they are unlike anything he’s found in the few books on magic he’s been able to access. 

His teacher was a tight lipped, closed off druid. He’d originally thought that it was just an Alan Deaton thing, but in his experience since, he’s realized those bastards are just cryptic as fuck. 

Stiles continues to read, letting himself get lost in the elegant script on the page. 

His phone dings, bringing him out of the moment long enough for him to simultaneously check his messages and the clock, only to realize he’s been at it for hours. 

He’s completely forgotten to go to the store and is going to have to have a late dinner if he’s gonna sleep at all tonight. Though the draw to continue reading is legit so he might have to power through. Either way, he’s gonna need food. 

  
  


Stiles grins wide down at his phone. It’s only been a couple days but already he’s been invited back and he can’t help but feel like that means something good. While he admits he doesn’t know anyone in the pack that well, he doesn’t think that very many of the pack members would be two faced with him. They’d either tell him outright that they didn’t like him...or maybe, if they did, they’d try to be friends. He really hopes that’s what’s happening and it’s not some sort of pity thing because they feel indebted over Boyd. 

Eh, Stiles shrugs, he’ll figure it out one way or another soon enough. Supernatural or not, very few things can hide their true nature from him for too long 

Before leaving, he shoots his dad a text too. 

  


Stiles sighs, but he knows there’s nothing he can do to stop Jordan from showing up in the preserve. He blows out a deep breath along with some of his self esteem, and sends Derek another message. 

  


Stiles relaxes a bit as he realizes Derek actually seems pretty okay with it. Though reading tone in text can be kind of difficult, he’s pretty sure someone with the Hale eyebrows of doom would have no trouble expressing his disappointment.

The drive to the preserve is actually calming, which is probably weird. Maybe it’s just because he’s finally behind the wheel of his treasured jeep again. It hadn’t sat at the club for long before his dad took him to pick it up, but he’d missed it anyway. Though he is not complaining about riding in Derek’s camaro. 

Stiles pulls up to the gate entry, only then remembering how, well there isn’t another word for it, fortified the pack house is. Before he can get his window fully rolled down, Jordan pops his head in and Stiles jumps, and maybe, squeals like a little bitch. “Jesus, Parrish. Are you trying to kill me?” 

“No, if I wanted it to hurt, there’d be more fire,” the deputy answers, his eyes quickly letting off an orange glow. 

“You’re such an asshole,” Stiles says, though he doesn’t mean it in the slightest. If he has a best friend in the supernatural world, it’s probably Parrish. Though Derek is quickly becoming a close second because he isn’t a complete jerk. Well okay, he’s kind of a dick, but Stiles likes him anyway. 

Jordan quickly circles in front of the jeep and Stiles briefly takes his foot off the break so that it lurches forward, forcing his friend to move out of the way. Stiles laughs, because Jordan is shooting him a bitchface the whole time. 

He pushes the button on the box and gives Parrish time to climb in the passenger side seat, before a voice crackles through the speaker. 

“Who is it?” 

“Batman.” 

“Sorry, Batman isn’t on the guest list...could it be under another name perhaps?” 

“It’s Stiles. Let me in, asshole, it’s cold with my head sticking out of the window.” 

“Stiles...is that with an I or a Y…” 

“I hate you so much.” 

“Sorry no Stiles here, we do have a JC Chasez on the list…” 

“So help me, Thor...if you don’t let me in soon, I’m going to shove an entire ice tray down your shirt so you know how I feel right now.”

The gates begin to open before he can even finish the threat and Stiles quickly rolls his window back up, glancing over to see a smug grin on Jordan’s lips. Stiles mutters under his breath about unfair supernatural creatures who run hot and aren't bothered by silly things like the cold autumn wind of northern California.

When Stiles finally reaches the house he sighs in relief. It’s no joke how hungry he really is. 

When the door opens Derek is standing there with a bright fucking grin and Stiles wants to do...something to it, make it stop probably. Yeah, that’s probably it. 

“This better be really good pizza for what you just put me through,” he said, wrapping his hoodie tighter around himself. 

“Derek, wait sorry- Alpha Hale, this is Deputy Jordan Parrish; hellhound. Jordan, this is Derek.”

Derek winces, “Close enough, come on in before you freeze.” 

“I’ve had like, three hours of practice, I think it was pretty damn good, considering,” Stiles adds, “And most of that was spent reading the one written by your family member; Alice?” 

“Aunt, well-great aunt. But she was like a grandmother to me,” Derek says softly, and Stiles immediately picks up on the past tense. He’s actually pretty saddened by that, but he figures it’s not even a fraction of what Derek feels so he just pushes forward.

Before he can get in the kitchen, Sarge rushes him and Stiles laughs as he’s almost knocked on his ass. “Yeah, I missed you too buddy.” 

Derek quickly says, “Sarge, down.” and the dog reluctantly backs away. 

“You can play with him after you eat.” Derek points to a barely eaten pizza that’s sitting on top of the island. 

“Dude that looks amazing….it’s- that’s hot did you-. You actually heated it up for me?” Stiles asks, feeling his cheeks warm. He didn’t think to put on any kind of protection spells, except the scent blocker. It's a habit now, to add that as soon as he wakes up. But everything else, the things he’s worked up to make him more...palatable, they were left forgotten and it would just be plain rude to start casting in the middle of dinner. 

Derek rolls his eyes, “If this is astonishing, wait until you see my next trick. It’s called offering you something to drink,” Derek says, with faux enthusiasm. 

Stiles chuckles, “Sorry, sorry. I just, I didn’t expect it, that’s all.” 

“I don’t think I want to ask about the other packs you’ve met if the bar is set that low,” Derek says, pulling out a couple of cold bottles of beer from the fridge, taking one for himself and offering a second to Jordan who gives him a look filled with gratitude. Stiles thinks he was expecting to be ignored. 

“We have peach tea, milk, orange juice, and water…” Derek offers to Stiles, who makes a sour face. 

“Gross, what kind of psychopath would drink OJ with pizza?” Stiles asks, feeling offended by the mere idea of such nonsense. 

“I’m just giving you options…” Derek says, a small hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Wait, why can’t I have a beer? You know I’m like well past legal right?” Stiles says, raising his brow to Derek’s ridiculousness.

“I do, actually. I also do not want a repeat of “I’m a Little Teapot,” Derek says, this time his mouth opening to an even wider smile. 

“I hate you so much…” Stiles says, though Derek just laughs at him. 

“So tell me more about this ‘Little Teapot’ thing,” Jordan says, clinking his beer bottle against Derek’s. 

Stiles is regretting ever letting the two of them meet. 

His dad was going to eat nothing but brussel sprouts for a week!

  
  


Despite Stiles’ original plan to keep Parrish as far away from Derek as possible, they both spend most of their free time at the Hale house in the following weeks. Stiles reads through each of the books Derek sent at least once; Alice’s several times, and is steadily expanding his basic knowledge about both werewolves and emissaries. 

The old ways, _traditional_ emissary courting rituals, while a little barbaric in part, sound like heaven to him in comparison to what he’s had to go through. Honestly it horrifies him that he’d rather take out bambi with his bare hands than suffer through another Alpha’s posturing, but it doesn’t make it any less true. 

“Hey Lydia,” he says, moving closer to her and sticking his finger to the page. ‘Can you tell me what this says, my latin is rusty and conjugation is not my strong suit in the first place…”

She smiles softly at him and repeats the phrase aloud as it’s written before explaining it over in English before saying it aloud once more. It takes him a few tries to realize but she’s-she’s actually reteaching his brain to recognize the words with this method and he looks up at her in awe. “I think you might be my favorite,” he says, and then immediately adds, “Don’t tell Derek.”

She bows her head to him like the queen she is and doesn’t say a word, but she’s smiling so he relaxes into the soft leather of the comfortable chair and lets the soft quiet comfort of the library lead him back to the passage again. 

They’ve been at it for a while, before they’re interrupted. 

It’s Jordan and Stiles visibly deflates. 

“Already?” 

“Okay first, it’s dinner time. Secondly, your dad is going to be home in half an hour and if we don’t beat him there, he’s going to be asking you more questions, not less…” Jordan says, pointing out that part specifically because Stiles may or may not have whined earlier about his dad’s interrogation skills being practiced at both work and home. 

“Ughhhh,” Stiles says, because he’s at least partially still a teenager at heart. “Fine, I’ll get my stuff together and meet you at the jeep in five.” 

“Three, you can’t speed or you know _someone_ will pull us over.”

“Fine fine, three… just go, already,’ he says, shooing Jordan toward the door. 

“Do you think Derek would mind if I- Lydia?” Stiles asks, because he looks up and she’s still staring at the door, almost frozen.

When she hears her name, she seems to snap out of it but she turns her lit ip gaze to Stiles and grins. “Who was _that?_ ” she asks, and he just blinks back at her. 

“Jordan Parrish, friend and one of Beacon Hills finest?” Stiles says, “He’s been here for _weeks…_ ” 

“I’ve been busy,” she says, waving him off. “Is he single?” 

Stiles shrugs, “I don’t know, we don’t really talk about that stuff,” he says awkwardly. “I mean we’re kinda friends but he also works for my dad so I try not to invade his personal life.”

“But you would, right?” she asks, putting her hand on his forearm. Then she has the gall to blink up at him with an almost pouty look to her lips, “For a friend.” 

“Ugh, I’ll give him your number or something; what he does with it is between the two of you and I want absolutely no details. He’s kind of like an older brother to me,” Stiles says, putting his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll text Derek a list of what I borrowed and I’ll try to be back some time tomorrow but if you _really_ want to help out a friend, translating the chapter on herbal medicines and defensive wards, I’d appreciate it.”

“Consider it done.” 

Stiles looks up at her before he leaves the library entirely and his smile turns into a frown at her smug, weirdly happy grin. “Ugh, I take it back. Derek is still definitely my favorite.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Stiles.” 

“Yeah, tomorrow.”  


It takes him dinner with his dad and an additional three hours to realize they both somehow forgot that the pack is leaving at dawn in the morning heading for the summit in southeast Oregon.

“Fuck,” he says to himself quickly shooting off a few texts.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Stiles bites his lip and goes downstairs to talk to his dad who he hopes is not passed out on the couch watching NCIS: New Orleans. He wants to check in with the old man before he texts Jordan; no sense in wasting time. His dad will know if they can spare him down at the station or not.

“Hey pops!” Stiles calls out when he gets to the bottom of the stairs. He is happy to report that the sleep thing is not yet happening but NCIS is on, so he’s caught him just in time. 

“Yeah, what’s up kid?” he asks, straightening up in his chair a bit to show he’s awake and paying attention. 

“So Derek sort of invited me to go to this supernatural summit thing..’ he says, “I didn’t know magic users were allowed until like five minutes ago, but um the only thing is…” 

‘You need Jordan to go with you,” the sheriff says, already having drawn the line from Stiles’ nervousness to where it was tied to his hellhound deputy. If it were possible for them to be a pack of two, John would have probably already settled all of this, but that supposedly didn’t work unless they were mates, which Stiles was very adamant that they weren’t. 

“If he can, yeah. If not, if it’s going to leave you guys in a crunch, I can just stay home and we can go over the translations when Lydia gets back on Monday,” he says, and he means it honestly though there’s a surge of anticipation, _of possibility_ in his chest and he’s really hoping it isn’t stolen away. 

The sheriff scrubs a hand down his face. “How important is this summit thing?” he asks. 

“Honestly? I’m not really sure but I know Derek and his pack are making a pretty big deal about it and they aren’t really the type of people who fuss over the little things, y’know? Stiles says, “I might have been a little jealous that I wasn’t invited, when it was first brought up, so I probably didn’t pay as much attention when I should have.”

“That sounds like you,” the sheriff answers with a soft smirk. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Stiles says, rolling his hand over to do a move on gesture.

“Talk to Jordan, Stiles. If he wants to go with you...I’ll work out the specifics down at the station. If he doesn’t want to go, that’s the end of it, got it?” the sheriff adds with a serious glare. 

“Got it, 100%. His choice!” Stiles says and then quickly rushes back upstairs to text Jordan and start packing, because if he knows anything, it’s that Jordan Parrish has a loyalty streak wider than the grand canyon and a penchant for wanting to keep Stiles out of trouble. No way is he going to say no to this opportunity.

  
  
  
  


Stiles fist pumps the air and continues packing. He takes a few days of regular jeans and tshirt, and just to be safe, he also adds something a bit more formal to his bag. It’s held at a campground, so he doesn’t think it’s going to be super fancy but it’s better to be prepared. Ask any boy scout. Well he isn’t one, but his dad was, and Jordan too probably, the saint. 

He double checks everything, and for good measure he adds in an extra couple pair of underwear because his mom had drilled that in to him at an early age. She had a couple hilarious stories about traveling and suddenly running out of underwear and Stiles refused to be like her in that way, at least. 

Just when he thinks he’s gotten everything ready, he sends off a text hoping Derek isn’t asleep yet.

  
  
  


After their little talk, Stiles is more relaxed about the whole thing. Derek teased him, but they both know that with his magic he can heal himself quite a bit if necessary. He still sets a reminder on his phone to grab the small kit he keeps in the jeep before they leave. 

Stiles knows he should attempt sleep; though he also knows it’s going to be pretty useless, he’s just too excited about what is happening. He wasn’t really joking about the t-shirt thing, he totally would have had pack shirts made if he’d been invited from the start. It takes a few beats for him to realize he’s just assimilated himself into Derek’s pack without even thinking about it. He feels guilty for all of two second before he realizes that when Derek teased him he totally acted as if Stiles was part of the pack. Why would he bother saying ‘yours says mascot’ if Stiles wouldn’t be getting a pack shirt, real or otherwise. 

A tendril of something deeper than excitement winds itself around his core when he looks back at the message. 

He knows he’s not pack, not officially but he’s starting to think maybe he could be and that is by far the most enticing offer he’s had yet. Mainly because Derek and his wolves treat Stiles as a person. Well...Peter doesn’t really count, Stiles feels much more like an object when Peter’s around but he doesn’t sense any ill will, which is kind of reassuring. Though he does sometimes wonder if Peter is just really good at hiding his evil intentions, so good that even his spark can’t pick up on them. 

“Gah,” Stiles says to himself, scrubbing both hands down his face before he tries to change his thought pattern. 

Out of the corner of his eye he spots the spool of braided leather cord sitting on the floor inside his closet and he grins. So it won’t be t-shirts, doesn’t mean it can’t be _something._

He grabs some coffee knowing it’s going to be a long night, but he figures he can nap on the drive. It isn’t like he’s going to be able to sleep anyway right? Right. 

  
  



	3. Nobody Likes Sunchips

At six thirty he’s smiling with a death grip on his tumbler of coffee, standing on the front porch waiting for Jordan. 

When his friend pulls in the driveway Stiles can sense the teasing that’s about to come and he groans, but he doesn’t really mind. Why, you ask? Because Stiles is prepared. Stiles plans to throw him off by giving him a gift and then Jordan will be far too grateful to tease him about the small, miniscule...ridiculously tiny crush he has on Derek, right? Yeah, probably not but it’s worth a shot. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up at-wait, you didn’t sleep did you?” Jordan asks, after Stiles slides into the passenger seat. 

“Nope, but it’s fine. I’ll sleep on the way there. 

“Yeah, why don’t I believe you?” 

“It’s fine. If I need to I can always call on magic for a little boost. But I probably won’t even need to,” he says, waving a hand at Jordan. “I have something for ya…” he grins, pulling out the small brown paper envelope. “You can open it now or you can wait until we get to the pack house.” 

“Do you have one for everybody?” Jordan asks, watching Stiles closely. 

“I do, actually.” 

“Then I’ll wait til we get there. You sure you didn’t leave anything?” 

“Aww come on dude, you know I’ve checked this compulsively for like over an hour. If I do it again, we’re both going to go insane. It’s fine, if I’ve left anything I’ll just borrow or buy it. Surely they have a gift shop or something nearby.”

“Or something,” Jordan says, shaking his head and chuckling. 

It should probably concern Stiles, but he didn’t have the brain energy to worry about what his friend might know that he doesn’t. Instead he just leans softly against the cool window of the car and tries not to show his growing excitement as they get closer to the pack house. 

When they pull in, Lydia all but clambers into Jordan’s pickup to hug Stiles. 

It’s a little weird, but not like uncomfortably so, so he just hugs her back. 

“I’m so happy you decided to come with us,” she says, which again is a little out of character for her. 

“Are you on something?” he asks, because he can’t  _ not _ ask.

“Of course not, silly!” 

“Check your texts,” he hears Derek say and when Stiles pulls out his phone he laughs, loudly but he doesn’t call her out on it. “Missed you too Lyds.” 

He hands over his duffle to Derek who packs it into the back with the rest of their stuff, but Stiles keeps a small nylon drawstring bag with his ‘essentials’ on him in case he needs something. He doesn’t want Derek, or whoever he’s riding with to have to dig through everyone’s luggage to get his meds or a crossword puzzle book to shut him up. 

It also has their gifts. 

He doesn’t make a big announcement or anything, because it feels weird to take up everyone’s time when he can just pass them out individually and they can check them out at their convenience. 

He gets about halfway through the pack before everyone collectively starts to realize that he’s passing them out. Derek smiles at him and holds Cora’s up in his hand, “I don't think this is big enough for a t-shirt,’ he says, making Stiles chuckle a little. 

“Told you, I didn’t have time for shirts, DerBear,” Stiles grins mischievously, “And give that back to Cora, you’ll get yours soon enough.” 

Stiles keeps going, despite the eyes on him and eventually people either move on or he gets used to it but it doesn’t feel as much like nails in the back of his neck. 

“Okay, that should do it.” 

“What about me, don’t I get one of your little  _ presents _ , Stiles?” Peter asks, and Stiles was absolutely prepared for this. 

“Yours is different actually, but I thought you’d like this better,” he says, handing over the larger brown paper envelope he’d made out of some leftover wrapping paper. 

Peter seems shocked, which is exactly what Stiles was going for. After thinking about it for quite some time the night before Stiles thinks maybe, Peter doesn’t feel like he’s part pack. He’s not sure what went down, or why the other pack members, save Lydia, treat him a little like he’s pack adjacent, instead of full fledged pack, but Stiles was going to follow suit and if at some point Derek wants to share their history, he can decide then, whether or not to try to bridge the gap between them.

“You guys can open them whenever. I didn’t want to make a big scene, yet here we are,” he says, shrugging off the nerves he’s feeling with everyone watching him. 

They do open them, and almost collectively they gasp. “It’s really not a big deal. I had some leftover leather and wooden disks from when I was practicing creating my totem and I thought you guys would like them. It’s okay if you don’t-” 

Immediately he’s engulfed into a warm hug. Stiles isn’t actually sure who was first but they all wrap around him and offer up different variations of thanks and it warms his heart. It’s more than he could have hoped for. 

“Alright, time to leave guys…” Derek says, forcing them back on topic.

“Can Stiles ride with us?” someone asks, it strangely sounds like Cora but Stiles shakes his head, doubtful. 

“You know the seating assignments and Stiles and Jordan are riding with me,” Derek says, and then glances up to find him and Stiles swears there’s a pinkness to the tops of his cheeks and ears. “Unless you can quickly convince someone to trade with you. Everybody in.” 

Stiles nods, moving to open the back door but Derek effortlessly herds him into the passenger side seat of the rented SUV. It takes all of his restraint not to do a little happy dance in his seat as Derek makes his way around to the other side, but he thinks it all the same. 

“You can follow GPS, right?” Derek asks, as he slides gracefully behind the wheel. 

“Yes, I can actually read a map too, if you have one of those. If we’re going too far out of civilization it might be a good idea to pick up an atlas, sometimes you can’t get a cell signal up in the mountains. 

“We’re not going to be that far out Stiles, GPS will do it.” 

“Alrighty then, Oh Alpha my Alpha, lead on!” 

There are snickers behind them but Stiles just rolls his eyes and Derek flashes his. 

“Do it, say it Derek…” he prods. “Settle down back there. Don’t make me turn this car around,” Stiles mimics in his best dad voice, which isn’t particularly great but it works to get everyone to laugh a little, so it served its purpose.

“No,'' Derek answers, but he’s smiling and shaking his head and Stiles thinks, for a small moment, that it’s probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

So maybe his crush is a little less miniscule and a little more tsunami of emotion but he refuses to address it, because that way madness lay. Instead he focuses on emptying his coffee cup because he’s pretty sure Derek mentioned stopping somewhere for breakfast soon and Stiles would very much like  _ more _ coffee in his belly please. 

“Stiles, these are really cool,” Kira says, bringing his attention to her in the rear view mirror and he watches Malia nod along with her.

“It’s no big deal…” 

“This is a protective rune, right? Against hmm...water?” she asks, curious. 

“Mine is different. Hey, why is mine different?” Malia asks him, and Stiles shrugs. 

“All of them are different,” he says. “I uh, I made them different. I don’t know everyone that well it’s only been what, a month or so now but I used symbols and runes that I thought would be most useful to you. Kira is a lightning Kitsune, so the one I made for her protects against water because water and lightning don’t mix very well, obviously.” 

“Ooh then what’s mine?” Malia asks, holding her bracelet up as though Stiles might not remember what he put on hers. It’s kind of adorable. 

“Yours isn’t a rune so much as a depiction of balance between human and animal. It’s lightly spelled, it should make it easier for you to keep control in stressful situations,” he says, and then winces. “Sorry I didn’t really think I’d be describing them out loud in front of everyone. It’s okay if you don’t need it-” 

‘No no I want it, you’re not taking it back!” Malia snaps, quickly drawing her hand back to her chest.

Stiles put his hands up. “Don’t worry I didn’t mean I’d take it from you, I’m just saying that I wasn’t trying to insult you, by implying you lack control.” 

Malia just stares at him quizzically. “But I do have problems with control.” 

Stiles chuckles awkwardly, “Maybe, but even so, as someone that’s not actually part of the pack it would be rude-” 

“Yet! Not yet! Derek, he’s going to be pack right?” Malia asks, causing Stiles’ jaw to drop. 

“That’s not up to us, Lee. Stiles will make that decision when he’s ready,” Derek answers politically. 

“What’s mine?” Liam asks, and Stiles grins. “Yours is similar to Malia’s, only where hers is about control between the two sides of who she is, yours is more focused on emotional balance,” Stiles offers, “Jackson mentioned that you were struggling during some of the pack training because you’re really competitive. Which is a great thing, hell Jackson is one of the most competitive people I know but sometimes, especially around other packs, it’s not a good idea to wolf out because you’re losing; the bracelet should help to keep you calm.” 

“That’s really thoughtful, Stiles. Isn’t that thoughtful, Derek?” Kira asks, and Stiles feels himself flush a little. Thankfully, he doesn’t think they can see or smell it and since Derek is trying to pay attention to the road in front of them, he might have just dodged that little bullet. 

“It’s really not a big deal.” 

“You need to stop saying that,” Derek says, cutting him off from babbling further. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Stiles there are thirteen people in my pack and you went out of your way to create a special, individualized gift for each and every one of them, and I’m guessing that’s also what kept you up all night?” 

“I wouldn’t have slept anyway,” he mutters, but Derek just cuts him off again. 

“Your time is not disposable, and that doesn’t even cover what Kira said,” Derek answers, the last half pretty quietly but in a car full of weres he’s pretty sure they heard him. 

“Well in that case, you’re welcome,” he says, and then pointedly looks out the window because he just can’t. Derek is ridiculously gorgeous on any day, something Stiles surprisingly didn’t notice at first but when the Alpha is all soft and sincere, Stiles finds it hard to contain the mess of emotions inside him. 

“Where do you guys want breakfast from?” Derek asks, about twenty minutes later when they’re nearing town.

“Can we go to the diner?” Liam asks, but Derek just shakes his head. 

“Let’s drive through somewhere for now, we’ll eat dinner at a sit down place. 

Liam whines a bit, and Stiles grumbles in solidarity, mostly because the diner has better coffee than any of the fast food chains, but he doesn’t speak up. 

“Fine, we can go to the diner for coffee and eat somewhere else, okay?” Derek asks and Liam and Stiles both brighten up considerably. He mutters something about spoiled kids but Stiles ignores it because,  _ COFFEE _ . 

Derek takes their orders and he and Stiles go in to grab the ones for their car, and apparently Lydia and Jordan, and Jackson and Ethan are coming in for the others. 

After they drain the local diner’s coffee supply, they get back on the road, order an almost obscene amount of food for their car alone, from Mcdonald’s then it’s onto the highway. 

After Stiles fills his stomach up with hashbrowns and hot cakes, he starts to doze a little. No amount of coffee is going to sustain him beyond hour 33 with only four hours of sleep from the night before last under his belt. 

When he wakes up, there’s something soft and warm between his head and the window and something else covering his chest. He blinks his eyes open, head tilted down and feels an undeniable fondness tighten in his chest when he recognizes Derek’s familiar leather jacket covering him up. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, sitting up a bit straighter, wiping at his mouth and internally wincing.. “How long was I out, do you need directions or anything?” 

“About an hour, maybe a little over and you don’t have anything to apologize for, Stiles. I know how to get most of the way there, it’s just when we head to the cabin that things can get confusing. A lot of the roads look exactly the same and the summit isn’t always at the same place,” Derek offers, which is a bit of a relief. At least Stiles hasn’t put them out too much by napping. 

“Okay cool, well I’m up now.” 

“If you need to sleep a while longer that’s okay,” Derek says, and Stiles can tell he means it but it would also mean missing out on even more of their little road trip escapade and he doesn’t want to do that anymore. 

“No I’m good, just need a little zap,” Stiles says and winks at Derek before he tugs at his spark and lets it flow freely up and down his limbs warning him up and making him ever so slightly more alert. “There we go, should be good till this evening. I’ll go to bed a little early and sleep in a little late but that should be enough.” 

“Okay, well if it helps. There’s not much on the schedule tonight. Most of the guests aren’t going to arrive until tomorrow,’ Derek says, glancing over at him in the passenger seat for a second before he turns his gaze back to the road. “As long as you can make it through dinner you won’t have to worry about staying up later than that, or sleeping in either.”

“Cool cool cool,” Stiles answers. “Oh and uh thanks, for this,” he says, holding up the jacket, grateful that he’s conscious enough to keep himself from smelling or showing his exact thoughts about being wrapped up in Derek’s leather jacket. 

“Don’t worry about it. The girls had the blanket so I thought you might need something,” he says, and it seems very nonchalant, Stiles almost doesn’t notice it but there’s  _ something _ there; something in the weight of the words that feels like it’s a mask covering a deeper underlying thought.

Stiles has learned how to read Derek pretty well in the time they’ve spent together. He’s more clever than the betas and other pack members give him credit for, that much is clear. Stiles knows werewolves and their penchant for being human sized lie detectors, Jordan can do the same but to a deeper extent. He doesn’t just read the heart blips, but he also, as he describes it, ‘ can taste the truth’ of words. It’s a neat trick for a cop and Stiles has had one hell of a time trying to learn ways of successfully lying to his best friend, mostly just to see if he could. He’s done it...not often but a few times. If Jordan was in the car with them, which wait, wasn’t he supposed to be? Someone must have switched with him...ugh but it’s probably for the best. Anyway, if Jordan were there he could tell Stiles what was off about the statement but then he’d know, and there’s the rub. 

Stiles has always had a love/hate relationship with the truth; both when telling and hearing. There’s a chance that he’s just reading way too much into it and it was as Derek said, but those two little words that always seem to get him in trouble come back to mind. 

_ “What if… _ ”

Stiles licks his lips and tucks the bottom one between his teeth as he thinks about the what if’s. 

_ What if Derek just wanted to get his Alpha scent all over me before we get to the summit.  _

_ What if it’s because he likes me? _

_ What if it was just to protect me?  _

_ What if- _

Stiles stops himself, it isn’t often that all of the what if scenarios he comes up with are positive. Is it wishful thinking or could he really just not find a negative reason why Derek would put his jacket over him? Stiles thinks about it and the most cynical thing he can come up with is that of the two options, blanket or jacket, he didn’t want Stiles smelling of the whole pack like the blanket potentially did. It’s weak at best, because since he’s learned what scent marking is, he notices that almost every member of the pack does it with him to some small extent. 

So that probably isn’t it. 

Well well well, maybe this little bite sized crush isn’t completely one-sided? He glances over to Derek, eyes assessing the likelihood of such a thought, it isn’t high. For a moment Stiles worries that maybe Derek is, how to phrase it, pimping himself out for the pack. Yet not one time in the month and change that he’s known the Alpha, has Derek ever even suggested that Stiles join his pack. Sure, he thinks they’re both kinda hoping it ends up that way but if Derek is willing to do such a thing, he isn’t the type of person to play the long game, subtlety is not in his wheelhouse. Peter is the only Hale that can even attempt to pull it off but with him it’s more subterfuge and less subtlety. 

He gets lost in his thoughts for a while until the car slows to a stop and he notices that Derek has pulled up beside a gas pump. “Oooh snacks!” Stiles says, and excitedly opens his door. 

“Everyone better get what they want picked out before I get in there, I won’t wait for you and I’m the one paying.” 

The wolves rush out of the cars, which Stiles knows is a ridiculous effort because he’d eat his own fist if Derek doesn’t make sure everyone gets what they want regardless. He’s clearly a giant teddy bear and it's one of the many things Stiles adores about the rag-tag Hale Pack Alpha.

“They’re going to clear out the place,” Stiles says, as Derek relaxes against the side of the SUV. The pump is still running, still churning out more high priced go juice, but Derek seems lighter than he was in the car. Fresh air and warm sunshine looks really good on him. 

“Probably,” he says, with an added shrug. “I don’t mind. We have enough and for the most part they don’t ask for much. This trip...it’s like the one big family vacation we have together. It’s been a tradition for the last three years and they know the drill.”

“Make sure you don’t let them take all the Reese’s to the other car. I need that peanut butter and chocolatey goodness. 

A moment later the corner of Derek’s mouth lifts up and Stiles watches him glance toward the storefront. “I think you’re good. Malia has apparently grabbed everything chocolate and claimed it was ‘her time of the month’ so no one bothered trying to take it.” 

“Oh,” Stiles said sadly, “I guess she needs it mor-” 

Derek just shakes his head and cuts him off with a hand, before motioning to his phone. 

Stiles hands it over and when he gets it back on the screen it says, 

‘She’s getting them for you.’ 

Stiles quickly types out a response as Derek finishes putting away the nozzle and hands it over as he climbs out of the passenger side.

When he gets inside the store it looks like a fuckin’ apocolypse happened somewhere nearby, and Stiles gapes as he looks over at the sheer volume of shitty gas station snacks piled onto the counter.

Before he can get too far down that path Derek takes him by the elbow, grabs two of the little shopping baskets by the door, and ushers him through the aisles. “If you don’t see something you want just glance over everything when we get to the front and take what you want and put it in your basket.” 

“Dude.. I don’t need that much, it’s only another, what? like four hours?” Stiles says, shaking his head. 

“Yeah they offer regular meals at the main cabin, but usually we’re only able to make two of them a day if we’re lucky,” Derek says, picking out half a dozen bottles of ale 8 who even is he? Stiles wants to know but those thoughts are cut off by Derek talking even more than anticipated. “-so we’ll be eating a lot of this stuff to supplement between meals and for the trip home. It’s okay, I promise. Get whatever you want. Everything if you want. We kind of have an arrangement with the owner.” 

Stiles didn’t argue, even though it does feel a bit unnatural. He finds a few things that he likes and puts them in his basket, Derek also weirdly adds in more of the things he selected, as if it wouldn’t be enough. Malia comes up behind them with an empty basket and just starts piling in almost exclusively things Stiles picks out until he gets very suspicious that she’s just quadrupling his order. 

“Yeah, not subtle at all..” he says to himself and she bumps into him intentionally. 

“Wasn’t trying to be. That’s for humans, right Derek?” 

Derek sighs as if this is a conversation they’ve had often.

“You’re human too Malia…” 

She huffs out a loud breath that clearly sounds offended but Kira rushes to her aid, their aid, he’s not sure, and she stops the huffing noises. Stiles calls that a win and just takes what he has to the counter.

“Jordan can you grab my stuff and carry it out? You’re a sup-er stronger guy than I am and I think if I see the price tag on this I might just pass out,” he says, moving toward the exit as Jordan nods, probably understanding how he feels all too well.

He waits for them all to come out and when they do, there’s a disturbing amount of bags on their arms. Stiles winces for the environment as they climb in on all sides around him. Parrish doesn’t come to their car but Stiles had already figured that Derek or one of the girls would grab his things. 

“Do they have anything left in there?” Stiles asks, laughing. He’s just pushed beyond the awkward and figures it’s either laugh or cry so he chooses to laugh. 

The four of them turn to him eerily and say, “Sunchips,” in unison. 

“Okayyyy weirdos.” 

Malia just throws a pack of Mini- Reeses at him, which works well if she was trying to shut him up. He gives a muffled, ‘thanks’ around a mouthful of delicious peanut buttery chocolate heaven. 

Derek shakes his head and tells them all to buckle up before he pulls back out onto the road that leads back to the interstate. 

  
  
  
  


By the time they get to the cabin everyone is getting restless, including Stiles. Derek knows that sometimes he can get a bit antsy from sitting still for too long, but he has been a flurry of movements for nearly an hour and as much as Derek respects and appreciates him, it’s fucking annoying. 

He’s grateful that they can all just get out of the car and separate for a few minutes. 

“Guests get first pick!” Derek says as the pack clamber through the door. 

“First pick of what?” Stiles asks, perking up a bit as he stretches out. Derek tries not to watch but it’s a bit mesmerizing the way he locks his hands together behind his back making his shirt ride up just a little. 

He shakes himself back to the moment and answers, “Cabins and then bedrooms.” 

“Shit you mean...we’re not all staying here together?” he asks and if he could scent him Derek was sure there’d be a hint of anxiousness, maybe fear even; which was weird. Granted they’d not been thrown in to many life or death situations after the thing with Aiden had been cleared up. Even facing down Peter and Cora, Stiles has never shown one ounce of fear, but the prospect of them not all being together and he goes pale. 

“There’s not enough room in one, so we get two. The other one is right...there-” he says, pointing to the cabin that’s a bit further back from the road. 

“Oh, oh cool cool cool. Are they both about the same? Stiles asks, and Derek nods.

“That one has a pool table, this one has-.air hockey, I think. I don’t really play. Otherwise, kitchen living room three bedrooms here, four in the other, three bathrooms and a rec room.” 

“Damn,” Stiles ays, “This is surreal.” 

“Look, I know it may seem ridiculous and I’m not even going to try to deny that we are going to spend an exorbitant amount of money this weekend, here on this trip. But if it helps, the pack has more than enough and on the whole, we’re very philanthropic. We don’t just spoil ourselves all the time. Each and every pack member does their part to give back to the community and the pack. This trip, Christmas, and individual birthdays are the only times any of us spend money on each other, on ourselves,” he explains, because he feels like he has to. 

“No no I get it, I just- I mean my dad, he did what he could. He’s taken me camping, gone to the movies, went to the aquarium a couple times and the San Diego Zoo back before my mom-, well we’ve done some things but it’s just, well nothing like this.” Stiles says, gesturing to the cabins as if they were gold plated. 

“Is this-Are you uncomfortable here?” Derek asks, because he has to. “I’m sure Jordan would be happy to drive you home if you don’t want to stay. Some of us can ride back with Satomi or something, it will be fine if that’s what you want.” 

“No no..I just- I think it will take some getting used to, y’know?” he says and Derek pretends to know. The truth is, his family has always had money, the Hales of the past were much more extravagant than he considered normal and he’d been spoiled as a child. 

Then of course, everything changed and it was just him and Laura and begrudgingly, Peter. Malia, Jackson, and Cora despite blood connection came much later. Derek had well and truly thought he was alone in the world. 

The money did not ease his pain, nor did time. 

Eventually, pack saved him. It gave him something to hold onto with his reality fading around him, and gave him a home again. 

So he doesn’t spoil them, not the way he had been at least. But he tries to make sure they have enough of everything and that none of them suffer financially, but more importantly he does everything he can to provide a safe place for them to be happy and healthy people despite all of their trauma. 

“This one is fine,” Stiles says, walking through the door and just give Jordan and I whatever room is left, I’m not picky,” he adds, making Derek frown but Jordan quickly turns things around by shouting out. “Dibs on the master!’ 

Stiles squawks and turns around to face his friend who is grinning wolfishly, well hellhound-ishly, Derek guesses. 

“Jacuzzi tub, Stiles and before you ask, yes. I am absolutely okay with getting pampered this weekend,” Jordan says, and then turns back toward the room he just claimed. 

Derek chuckles and herds Stiles toward the kitchen. He still seems a bit off kilter but he’s pretty sure the kitchen will calm him down a bit. It had Ethan, who was also not used to having money or spending it when he first joined them. 

“You explore the kitchen and we’ll decide where everyone else is sleeping and then start grabbing the luggage,’ Derek says. 

“Explore? It’s one room how much-holy fuck-” Stiles meeps, but Derek just grins and pushes him a bit further into the room before going back to business. 

He doesn’t like to do it often but he pulls rank so that he can stay in the same cabin as Stiles. He says it’s for protection of both the pack and Stiles and Jordan but his betas don’t buy it for even half a second. Thankfully they don’t call him out on it, at least not loudly enough for Stiles to hear in the kitchen. 

They get everything inside and then separated into rooms. Liam is crashing with him, which isn’t ideal but it would be weird if he stayed with Stiles, right? Yeah, it would probably be weird if he asks, so he doesn’t. Malia and Kira have taken their third bedroom which Derek is pleased about because as much as he loves his sister and his uncle, neither of them would be ideal roommates while he’s cohabitating with Stiles and... four other people but that’s normal. The Stiles part, that’s what’s new. 

He makes it back to the kitchen and Stiles is staring sadly at the mostly empty fridge. Derek feels like maybe he should have gotten groceries instead of cheesy gas station food. Werewolves, supernaturals in general can get by with eating pretty much whatever they want and there’s not usually time for any of them to cook once everything gets going but Stiles enjoys it and Derek feels like maybe he’s taken something away from him unknowingly. 

He chews at his lip and does one of the things he hates most, and texts his uncle. 

Derek: I think I messed up.

Peter: You’ll have to be more specific, Derek. 

Peter: There are so many mistakes to choose from. 

Derek: Found Stiles staring at an empty fridge.

Peter: Ah yes, I was afraid of that. 

Derek: What the hell Peter, if you knew it could be a problem why didn’t you warn me? 

Peter: And miss out on having this enchanting conversation? 

Peter: You are on your own when it comes to wooing the spark, nephew. 

Derek: I hate you. 

Peter: I know. Love you too. 

Derek growls down at his phone loud enough to apparently disturb Stiles considering the windmill he does to turn around after slamming the fridge door shut. 

“Sorry, I- none of us really have time to cook but you could. We can go get groceries if you want…” 

“Derek, it’s fine. We’ve already got enough food to last us through an apocalypse, it would be a waste to buy more,” Stiles says, and there’s no lie in the words but Derek still feels the sadness lingering there. 

Derek shrugs, “The snack food will keep. Hell, there are so many chemicals and preservatives in that shit, we could probably just stockpile it for a while,” he says, hoping it’s enough to convince Stiles that it’s really okay to get groceries. 

“I just, I mean you guys are so healthy at home. I didn’t expect that,” he says, face a bit red. 

“We try to eat locally as much as possible. We take in a lot, so we try to use that money to fund the small businesses and farmers at home rather than waste away on junk food,’ Derek answers, moving closer to lean against the island counter. “But like I said before, we’re usually pretty busy this weekend with one thing or another, and there’s not a whole lot of time for us to make a meal big enough for everyone, y’know?” 

Stiles nods. 

“But if you want to cook, Stiles, do it. Everyone is going to be pissed at me for not getting you stuff to work with. They loved the pancakes, and those um-the polish thing?” 

“Andrut-” 

“Yeah, that! Even the picky eaters who hate trying new things, raved about that-Andrut, for days after you left,” he offers, and it's the total honest truth. If the pack had any clue that Stiles wanted to cook they would all be wrangling Derek into the SUV to buy ingredients, STAT. 

“I don’t know-” 

“Stiles just let him take you to the freakin’ store!” Malia shouted, and then in a lower tone that only Derek could hear, she added, “or to bed.” 

Wait, no that was Kira. Fuck! His cousin was a bad influence on his best friend. 

“See, trust me. They want you to cook, let’s go,” Derek says, wrapping an arm over Stiles’ shoulders to herd him more easily toward the front door. 

More than an hour later they come back with a trunk full of groceries, enough for at least three meals a day and then some but Stiles is grinning and Derek has never wanted to smell something so much in his life, but as always, the spark has his scent locked up tightly. 

It occasionally drives Derek’s wolf mad, but he figures Stiles has rights to his own secrets; so he doesn’t press. 

* * *

  
  


The first day of the summit is low-key and kind of lures Stiles into a false sense of security. They wake up early, but Stiles is prepared and has already gotten most of breakfast finished. He’s also packed lunches and snack bags for them all too, which makes a few of them look at him oddly. He easily shrugs it off. 

The way Derek talks about it, they don’t have time to keep making constant trips back to the cabin so he makes their food portable. It isn’t a big deal. 

They all say thanks in their own way, most of them with words, Lydia with a peck to his cheek, and Jackson with a hip check into the fridge. But he can hear it all the same. 

Now he’s standing on the porch of a freakin’ _ estate _ tugging self consciously at the ends of his sleeves. 

“You’re fine,” Jordan says, clearly trying to calm him down. It’s not working at all. Normally it would, but at least three of the rejected Alphas are on the other side of that door and while Stiles can bullshit with the best of them, he is not looking forward to being face to face with any of them again; doubly so for Alpha Graven. 

“I know, no big deal..” 

“Stiles!” Jordan snaps loudly enough that Stiles can’t help but look up at him. 

“We don’t have to go in there, you know that right? You don’t have to prove anything…” Jordan says, and just like that it makes everything so much clearer. 

Stiles would love to ignore everyone inside. He’d love to tuck tail and run home and not have to see the big scary alphas again but -but no, fuck that noise. He doesn’t need to hide. He’s done nothing wrong. He was well within his rights to refuse them and they should be ashamed of how they tried to court him, not the other way around. 

Stiles takes a deep breath and readies himself before nodding at Jordan. “C’mon, let’s go. Derek and the others are waiting for us. 

“Alright, but if you need to leave just send me a text or pinch me a little and I’ll get you out of there, okay?” he says, and Stiles nods in agreeance. 

They step inside and the noise of the room is instantly louder than he expects. For a room full of supernatural creatures with supernatural hearing they’re all insufferably loud. Maybe they need to keep that volume to keep up with everything, he’s not sure but it’s a harsh buzz even to his human ears. 

He tries to mingle a bit, a few people bringing up the fact that he’s a  _ guest of the Hale pack _ as if it means something, that it has weight to it, and Stiles is starting to wonder what it means that Derek has invited him here. 

He’s been ‘circulating’ for almost half an hour when he thinks he hears a familiar voice. It’s faint but there’s a distinct - _ Derekness _ to the growl that follows. Without thinking he moves closer to it, wanting to take comfort in the warmth he knows he’ll find there. 

“Oh is that so?” he hears Derek say. The alpha is still far enough away that no one is really paying him any attention but there’s half a dozen pack members at Derek’s back while he talks with-is that Goodyear? Firestone-, it was some sort of tire brand right? Fuck he can’t even remember the Alpha’s name. 

“Yeah, I mean, not to brag but I barely spent like an hour with the kid and he was all over me,” the guy says, with a wide smirk. He was one of the smarmiest and Stiles feels himself throw up a little bit from the memory. 

Derek laughs, loudly. “Wow, I guess you really won him over. I’d heard he formally requested a suspension of courting, but I bet he’s already contacted  _ you _ considering he was, what were the words, oh yeah,  _ all over you _ .”

The Alpha, Michelin-no, Dunlop! That’s it, Dunlop, his face turns red with what is likely anger and says, “I’m sure he’s been busy, it’s not been that long-” 

It’s that moment that makes Stiles realize that they’re actually talking about him, fuck-and Derek is- well he looks calm but Stiles has learned to read his body language a lot in their month and change together, and he knows what angry Derek looks like. 

Stiles needs to get in there and fast. 

“Hey guys, what’s goin’ on?” he says, though he already absolutely knows what’s happening, and he hopes he’s quick enough to keep it from getting bloody. 

“There you are,” Dunlop’s eyes light up as if it’s Christmas morning which makes Stiles stomach twist. Thankfully Derek is  _ right there _ at his side in a second, Jordan flanking his left. 

“Yeah, buddy. here I am,” he says, acting confused but amiable. 

Dunlop glances around at the circle of people gathered and nods in Stiles’ direction. “This is the spark I was telling you guys about,” he says, introducing Stiles like he has any right- oh no he didn't. 

“Oh! You-you’re the one...shoot, sorry I’m terrible with names but Michelin...Goodyear?” he says, acting as if he doesn’t even remember the guy's name which was mostly true less than five minutes ago. 

“Dunlop,” Derek offers, and Stiles smiles brightly up at him. 

“That’s it! Thanks DerBear,” Stiles says, with an added wink up at Derek. “That would have driven me crazy...you know how I get about those things. 

“I do,” Derek says, going along with him. 

“Sorry, Sorry, Dunlop was it? Have you met Alpha Hale?” Stiles asks, reaching up to put his arm over Derek’s shoulder, making sure his fingers rub across the side of Derek’s neck with intention. “Derek here is a close and personal friend. So he’s an obvious exception to the whole ‘suspension’ thing.” 

There are giggles and mutters of things Stiles can’t hear but he’s pretty sure they all got the message. 

He’s just about to walk away, Derek turning with him when he feels a hand clamp on his wrist and everything goes quiet. 

The room cackles with energy and Stiles feels fire flood his veins. 

“Get your hand off me,” he says, a low, but eerily calm voice. 

Stiles can see Derek start to turn, to move closer but Jordan stops him, pulling him back a bit out of the way. 

“What did he offer you? I can double it. Hale might be an old name in our world but they are not what you might think. Derek’s the only  _ real _ Hale lef-” 

His words are cut off, Peter’s claws at his throat before Stiles can do anything to stop them. 

“Oh don’t bet on that little Alpha, Let me introduce myself. I am Peter Hale, brother to former Alpha Talia Hale. She got all the softness of our mother and me? I got the ruthlessness of the ‘Blood Wolf,” Peter says, everyone is backing away now and Stiles knows this is bad. Derek said fighting wasn’t allowed in a very serious tone so shit, this is really bad. He’s got to keep Peter out of trouble. 

The other Alpha goes pale almost instantly at the moniker Peter mentioned and that only makes his grin even more feral. “Heard of him, have you? That’s my father and he taught me to never lay hands on what didn’t belong to me, did your father not teach you that, boy?”

The Alpha in Peter’s grip just gasps a bit, unable to make intelligible sound, at least not well enough for Stiles to interpret, but Peter must hear something in it because he backs off and drops the Alpha back to his feet. 

“Alright then. Let me make this clear; Do not touch him, not ever again. I plan to take a trip, visit my friend Alpha Ziadon just north of you I think? I’ll be heading there after our little vacation is over to do some...hunting. Is that blunt enough or do I need to use smaller words?” 

“No, no I-I got it. Message received,” Dunlop mutters, and Stiles, along with everyone else in the room lets out a collective sigh of relief. 

“Come little spark, let’s get the stench of  _ rubber _ off your wrist,” Peter says, and despite everything, or maybe because his emotions have been on a fucking roller coaster since he heard Derek speak inside the cabin. Stiles laughs, loudly and uncontrollably. 

Both Derek and Jordan look at him like he’s lost it, which is fair, but he just says…” Rubber, like tires,” and cackles again. 

“And this is one of the many reasons you belong to us,” Peter says, as if it’s already been decided and Stiles starts to think maybe it has.

*Collectively the Hale Pack Yee Haw in the background* 

* * *

The rest of the summit Stiles mostly spends his time inside the cabin but Derek doesn’t complain because he’s happier here. 

Derek’s been inviting other trusted Alphas who already have emissaries, over to either renegotiate alliances or just mutually agree to keep the ones already in place. It means he also stays in the cabin quite a bit before they leave, and it's...nicer than he expected. Most of the pack are still out socializing and generally reminding everyone of their presence here. 

“You have everything packed?” Derek asks, they’re leaving in a couple hours but he knows Stiles has been ready since the night before. 

“Yeah, it will be good to be back home again. Jordan is a great guy, but fuck the man snores like- well, like a hellhoud,” Stiles says, chuckling to himself. 

“Liam does too. Maybe next year we can stick them together,” Derek says, not realizing the gravity of what came out. The presumption that they’d  _ all _ return next year, and the fact that he and Stiles would most likely be rooming together. 

When he does realize it, he can feel the tips of his ears blush and Stiles, his amber eyes go wide and he just looks at Derek in awe. 

“You mean it?” he asks, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

Derek shrugs, “If that’s what you want. No pressure though,” he says, barely able to keep himself from confessing everything right then. He’d love to tell Stiles how much he  _ wants _ -feels like he  _ needs _ that to be their future but he refuses to be another Alpha in a long line of Alphas that don’t treat him as if he has his own agency. 

“You ridiculous marshmallowy Alpha,” he says, making Derek frown in confusion.

“Wha-” 

Then Stiles is  _ there _ all up in his space, barely a breath between them. His warm brown eyes are almost sparkling now that they’re so close.

“Derek, what are you waiting for?” 

“I-I don’t want to press-” 

“Do I look like I don’t want to be here? Have I ever once given you the impression that I was just being polite for social convenience? I want to be here, I want you, I want your pack, if you’ll have me.” 

Derek doesn’t think, he can’t, he presses forward pinning Stiles to the fridge instantly, lowering his head just slightly to crush their mouths together with a raw passion that he hasn’t felt in years, maybe not ever. 

“Stiles,” he gasps, only to be pulled back in by the spark and their kiss, it’s like lightning in his veins. Everything else fades away except the loud pulsing of both his own rapid heart beating against his ears and Stiles’ rabbiting pulse. 

Derek completely loses track of time until there’s some sort of cut off sound and a loud squeal of, ‘Fucking finally!!!” 

He pulls away slowly, not wanting to make Stiles feel as if it’s a rejection. “Sorry about that,” he says, his cheeks warming a bit further. 

Stiles just rolls his eyes, “Our pack, right?” 

Derek nods. “Our pack.” 

  
  



	4. Derek Gets It Right

“Have you seen our little spark?” Peter asks, and Derek grunts to give his answer. 

It’s been a week or so since they got back to Beacon Hills and Stiles has been holed up with Lydia somewhere doing something he’s not allowed to know about. 

Not only that but there’s a new scent around the pack house and he doesn’t like it. It’s been throwing him off all week. He’ll be in the middle of something, catch just a hint of it and then he follows it automatically. Like he doesn’t even think about it he just moves on instinct and not once in the history of this happening has he ever found the source. 

It feels like something he should worry about but the scent is warm and calm and not evil so he’s not brought it up just yet. Maybe one of the betas has a new partner, and Derek doesn’t want to put anyone in the position of being forced to display their budding relationship. 

Derek doesn’t like being kept in the dark but he trusts Stiles and Lydia and they say it’s a good kind of surprise, though they actually might be underestimating how much Derek absolutely hates surprises. 

“Not since we got back,” Derek adds, in case his grunt wasn’t enough of an answer. 

“Ahh so that’s it then…” Peter says, and shakes his head before leaving Derek alone with his coffee. 

Derek sips his coffee and makes himself a small breakfast trying not to be disappointed that they’re not all eating together...Stiles included. He’s nearly finished off the mediocre omelette when his phone starts going off like crazy. Pulling it from his pocket, Derek frowns at the screen, the group pack chat has a bunch of notifications. 

Lydia: Pack meeting tonight changed to pack training! 

Isaac: Oh come on! I’m still sore from yesterday! Jackson is evil. 

Boyd: We’ll be there. 

Cora: Why? What’s going on? 

Lydia: Jackson isn’t leading training tonight I am. 

Isaac: Shit, why do I feel like that’s worse. 

Erica: That is definitely worse….

Liam: I’ll be there, might be late...prof wants to see me after class *eyeroll emoji* 

Ethan: Jackson is not evil...he’s trying to make you stronger you giant man-baby. 

Isaac: Pfft, just because Jackson trains you in ‘other’ ways doesn’t mean you get a pass. You should be out there training with us. 

Ethan: Alright, I’ll be there tonight...I’m sure Lydia can be just as creative as my man.

Isaac: I think I just threw up a little.

Alli: Text me a list if you need me to bring anything! See you guys tonight!! 

Isaac: Ugh, do you have to be so positive about it. 

Isaac: We’ll be lucky to make it out alive if Lydia is running things. 

Ethan: You’re so extra… missed your calling, Hollywood. 

Cora: I’ll be there with Liam...apparently I have to stay after too...because someone is flunking ‘Talking 101’. 

Liam: It’s Communications 101 Cora, and you know it’s more than talking, fuck off. 

Derek sighs, he loves his pack, he loves his pack. Maybe if he mutters it a few hundred more times, he’ll remember that it’s true. 

Derek: Don’t I get a say in things? 

Isaac: YES! DEREK SAVE ME !!! LYDIA IS GOING TO KILL US ALL!!! 

Lydia: Stiles asked me to change it. 

Isaac: Fuck

Derek: Training it is. 

Peter: It’s about time. Malia and I will both be there as well, and I’m sure the same goes for Kira even if she’s not saying it, I presume she’s asleep. 

Derek smiles, maybe at least this way he’ll actually see and spend time with Stiles. He hopes that their schedules are actually going to collide later that evening and he can have a face to face conversation with his boyfriend? Mate? Something, whatever Stiles is, Derek is absolutely certain of one thing, it’s  _ his. _

He wonders what Stiles has planned if he’s asked to train the pack. Maybe it’s his way of showing he wants to be more involved. Derek can understand that, he doesn’t want Stiles to just stay in the kitchen or any other place if he wants to have his hands in other pots or whatever the saying is. He trusts him to take care of his pack, so anything beyond that is immaterial. 

He grins all the way upstairs to the shower, to get ready to greet the day with a much better attitude than he woke up with.

The day passes slower than he’d like but Derek is impatient by nature, even more so when it feels like he’s being deprived of something amazing, something like Stiles. But eventually, because that’s how time works, the little hand gets to the six and Derek is out the door in a flash, completely unashamed of how he nearly mows down Jackson and Ethan who are exiting from their private door on the side of the house. 

When he gets to the training field Lydia is there and looking particularly exquisite, and Jordan. He’s there too at her left with a big black duffle bag on his shoulder. 

“Where’s Stiles?” 

Lydia just shakes her head at him and smiles. “You’ll see him soon enough but we’re waiting for  _ everyone _ before we start, Derek.” 

“What’s in the bag?” Jackson asks, his head lifting as if the change of direction is going to somehow allow him to see through the black fabric of the duffel. Not that Derek can really mock him cause he might have tried it as well, out of instinct of course. 

“Men,” Lydia sighs, but Jordan gives her a charming smile that makes her look away and bite her lip. 

Derek saw that coming a mile away but he hasn’t chosen to take part in any of the bets going on. 

When the sheriff’s cruiser pulls up Derek is immediately put on edge. He tries not to show it as the man gracefully eases out of the car and starts walking purposely toward him. 

“Alpha Hale,” he says, with a dip of a nod. 

“Sheriff, what can I do for you?” he asks, awkwardly digging his hands into his pockets in what he’s sure will be a failing attempt to not do or say anything stupid. 

“My kid wanted me to be here, that okay?” 

“Of course, you’re always welcome here,” he says on instinct. 

The sheriff nods and then leans against the back porch as the rest of the pack start to filter in. Derek tries to ignore the looming presence he has there, but he wouldn’t call it a success. He can still feel eyes on the back of his neck when Lydia clears her throat and everyone slowly stops talking. 

“The training will be different today in multiple respects, but firstly you all have one direct target,” she says with a small smile. “Stiles, they’re waiting.” 

“I Mieczyslaw Stilisnki-, Jackson I will fucking punch you in the throat,” he says, when Jackson starts laughing like an idiot. “Come before you today to humbly offer myself and my intentions in the service of the Hale Pack under the direct leadership of one, Alpha Derek Hale.” 

Derek stands there, dumbfounded until Peter kicks gently at the back of his knee to spur him forward. 

“Stiles you don’t have to do this,” he says and is surprised by the look of hurt in those warm brown eyes. 

“I told you from the start Derek. I want to be part of the kind of pack that is going to make me prove myself. A group of people that I can trust to protect me as well as rely on me to protect them when things go wrong,” he says, and then with a very serious, very unlike the  _ Stiles _ he knows, cold expression he adds, “Are you refusing my offer, Alpha Hale?” 

A collective gasp ripples in the small field behind the pack house. 

“No not at all!” Derek says quickly. “I just-we trust you, you’ve shown us that our trust in you was well placed more than enough times already.” 

“Derek do you know what I’m capable of as a spark, and as an emissary?” Stiles asks softly, and Derek has to admit to himself that he doesn’t really know everything Stiles can do he’s sure, but he trusts in it all the same. 

‘Okay,” he says, breaking the formality of it all a little. “I’ll be straightforward with you. I need this, Derek. I need to test myself and I need your help to do it. Even if you don’t need to see my abilities to trust me, I need to prove to myself that I’m bringing more to the pack than Alpha’s boyfriend, or that one time I helped Boyd out. I’ve already said all of this, multiple times.” Stiles says, and straightens his shoulder, holds his head up a little higher, and locks eyes with him. “Now are you prepared to test me with everything you’ve got, or...or do we go our separate ways?” 

“I Derek, Alpha of the Hale Pack accept your offering based solely on the condition that you prove yourself worthy in the eyes of me and mine,” he says, and then adds softly, “even if it’s only to yourself.” 

Lydia clears her throat, and everyone is put back on edge. 

“As tradition dictates, the emissary must now enter into battle with no less than three selected pack members,” she says, and it’s like the world has fallen out from under his feet. He didn’t know it would mean this. He can’t-fuck-, Three of them have to fight Stiles at once?

“Alpha, a word of caution,” Lydia says, as if she’s not part of his pack already, it makes Derek itch under his skin. “This is not only a challenge for the spark Stilinski, but also for you as a leader. Make a wise selection or...or I fear the battle will already be lost.” 

“What does that even mean? Have you been taking lessons from Deaton?” Derek asks, his frustration with the cryptic druid was endless. 

Lydia huffs out a frustrated sigh. “It means don’t be an idiot Derek. If you try to protect him by choosing the weakest fighters, he’s going to be pissed and he won’t want to join us. So make sure you think this through!” 

She goes back over to stand beside Parrish and Stiles is twisting some sort of long stick, staff, in his hands. 

“Hale pack, excluding Lydia apparently, over here,” he says, moving further away so they can talk options. He wants to get Jackson’s advice as well as Peters but input from all of the pack is crucial. 

Jackson starts, “Malia, Boyd, and maybe Allison? He can’t rely as much on his magic with her in there, right?” he says, but Erica chuffs him on the back of the head. “Magic works on humans too. He doesn’t have to make her bleed to incapacitate her.”

“Too easy, he won’t accept that as enough of a challenge anyway,” Derek says, chewing on his lip. Peter is the most experienced fighter, even more so than himself but he also worries about giving his uncle a clear shot at Stiles where he could claim it was an accident. He trusts that it’s not in Peter’s interest to hurt Stiles but not enough to take that risk. 

“Peter what do you think?” Derek asks, and his uncle gives him a calculatinog look as if to say he’s surprised he’s even being asked. 

“Well if you’re asking me as a tactician I’d say you and me both need to be in the three for him to accept it as equal. As for the third, I have two possible candidates but I’m not sure if either choice will hurt or help us,” he says, clearly frustrated by the lack of knowledge he’s just admitted. 

“Who did you have in mind? Derek asks, but Peter is already ahead of him, moving closer to scratch out the response on his hand like they used to do when he was small and they wanted to keep secrets from the Alpha, his mom. It’s been far too many years since he’s felt his uncle’s claws softly scraping across his palm. 

“Sorry sorry, again, I wasn’t expecting that..” he says, because he’s completely missed what Peter was spelling. 

‘L-Y-D-I-A, “or,” Peter says, and starts scratching again, S-H-E-R-I-F-F’ 

“Isn’t that cheating?” 

Peter just sighs as if he’s questioning the legitimacy of them being blood kin. 

“All is fair in love and war, Derek. How many times must I teach you this lesson? Choose one of those two and we might just come out of this alive, and with a new emissary. Otherwise I think it will be quite awkward when your mate is the speaker and practician for another pack. 

Derek doesn’t like this, not at all but unfortunately there’s something deep in his gut that says Peter’s right. Stiles isn’t only testing himself, he’s testing Derek. If he doesn’t pick the right combination, and for the right reasons, Stiles will never see him as the Alpha he wants to serve.

It’s only the hope of something to throw him off, that Derek thinks he’ll accept. So Peter’s right, mostly. The only thing is that they have three choices.

Derek cuts off all the whispers of the pack and tells them to form a large circle in the middle of the field, “Give yourselves plenty of space but don’t spread out so far that you couldn’t catch the person next to you in less than a beat of five.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try ‘trust fall’ with me,” Stiles says, chuckling mischievously. 

“Oh I won’t be the one falling,” Derek says, and then there’s something like ozone, like thunderstorm invading his space and he just, he fucking craves it. 

“Thank you, I know this goes against your instincts but I need it,” Stiles says and Derek just greedily gulps in the scent around him. 

“Stiles you-fuck, your scent-” Derek says, pulling himself back a bit to try to control it. 

“Oh I just realized this is the first time you’ve been around me without the whole scent blocking spell huh,” he says, as if it only just occurred to him but Derek knows, even if his heart stayed strong and steady, that this was part of his plan. 

“Oh you are dead,” Derek growls. “You’ve left that scent all over the house this week, forcing me to get up and chase you only for you to disappear. I didn’t even know I was looking for you, it’s been driving me nuts.” 

“Whoops,” he says, not looking at all sorry about what he’s done. 

“Get over there, it’s time for me to announce my decision,” Derek answers, shoving slightly at Stiles’ shoulder. 

“I challenge you, Spark Stilinski, to four battles,” he says, and all heads snap toward him including Peter’s. 

“Okay, four battles, ” Stiles says, but Derek’s not finished. 

“I’m not done,” he says, and Stiles has a serious look on his face but it doesn’t give away the nervousness he must be feeling. 

“A battle of strength, One of endurance, one of mind, and one of heart. Do you accept my terms?” 

“What you can’t just-Derek. It’s supposed to be a fight,” he says, and Derek nods. 

“The battle of strength will be more than enough to show us who you are as a mage. I’m more interested in knowing who you are as a person.” 

And suddenly it’s like all the pieces come together, Stiles rushes forward and wraps around him and kisses him like a man in need. It’s wonderful and disorienting at the same time. 

“Sorry, sorry.. I’ll go back to my uh side,” he says, but he licks his lips and Derek’s eyes can’t help but follow the movement. 

“For tonight, I will give you your battle of strength but the other tests will be spread out throughout the week. Are you ready?” Derek asks and Stiles grins. 

“Your opponent for your battle of strength has been chosen and will be a worthy adversary. But before we start I need a moment alone with them.” Derek says, “Is that agreeable, Emissary Stilinski?” 

“Yeah yeah, whatever, just hurry it up I wanna kick some Hale ass.”

Derek grins, wide and feral, “Who said anything about it being a Hale?” he emphasises his point by strutting purposely toward Jordan Parrish. 

“Hey, just a couple quick things,” he says, “I want you to remember that Lydia is watching and calculating, the same way Stiles is with me and my choices. She’s not particularly fond of people who don’t win,” Derek says with a teasing grin. “You’ve been training with Stiles for years. No one knows his fighting style and capabilities the way you do; just as no one knows his weaknesses as well as you. Understand?” 

“Yeah I think I got it,” he answers, still wearing a smile. 

“Jordan, this isn’t a sparring match. You have to really go at him, let him prove to himself that he’s strong enough to run with wolves and hellhounds too. Give him the opportunity to show off for us but don’t shy away from trying to win. He’ll be pack either way as far as I’m concerned.” 

“You got it, boss.” 

Derek smiles, “ Alright, then. Let’s go.” 

  
  



	5. Kira Is A Goddess

When it’s time to start, Derek can tell Stiles is actually a little nervous. He’s not sure if it’s because he threw him by picking Jordan or if it’s the eyes on him, maybe a little of both.

Stiles rolls his shoulders and grips the staff in both hands before beckoning Jordan to come closer with a nod of his head.

Watching them do hand to hand combat is mesmerizing and full of way too fast movements and what are likely some pretty serious injuries. Stiles shoves his staff so hard against Jordan’s abdomen that part of it breaks off, but instead of backing down, the hellhound just flashes his eyes orange and uses Stiles’ surprise to sweep his legs.

Jordan pins him to the ground and Derek is almost relieved that it’s over but Stiles doesn’t quit, doesn’t back down. He keeps going and not only is Derek impressed but he knows the rest of the pack hadn’t imagined anything like this. 

“Come on  _ Merlin _ , scared of pulling out the ‘real’ power?” Jordan asks, blood dripping down his stomach from where the splintered off staff left its mark. 

It seems to be a taunt that he’s used before because instead of being pissed, Stiles just rolls his eyes. “If you think I’m going to try to use fire on you, you’ve underestimated your opponent,” Stiles says, “I’m not an idiot.” 

“Aww poor little Merlin can’t use his fire,” Jordan teases, “It’s almost like you forget there’s so many other elements.” 

“Do you have a death wish?” Stiles asks, and Derek blinks in surprise. 

“You wanna show them what you can do right? Well bring it on bite-sized Stilinski,” he says and they can feel the air shift around them. 

It must be a sore spot, because the tired, but happy grin slips off Stiles’ face and gone is the mask of a friend. The sky darkens around them and half of the pack are staring up at stormy grey clouds that just formed out of nothing when a loud clang of thunder shakes the ground beneath them. 

Stiles looks as if he’s in a trance, and everyone is stiff and eerily silent until Jordan turns toward Kira with pleading eyes. “Kira, if you can I’d appreciate it if you’d redirect the flow of lightning that’s coming. If not, that’s okay I’ll be fine,” he says softly, though it’s clear to Derek and everyone else that he’s not entirely sure that’s true. 

“Jordan no, we can stop this,” Derek says, for the first time feeling as if maybe he’s made the wrong decision.

“It’s fine, Alpha. He needs this, and you need to see him at his full power. Stiles won’t hurt me,” he says, and immediately turns his attention back to the spark who looks as if he’s fucking playing with lightning, twisting it around in his hands until it grows and shrinks at his will. 

It’s insane, and a little hot, but mostly insane. 

Then a crack of white heat shoots out of Stiles’ hand and Kira, Derek has never loved her more, uses her Katana like a damn lighting rod and whips it around to push it back toward the sky. He doesn’t even want to think about how much damage that would have done if it actually had hit one of them. 

Derek is about to stop the match but the sheriff beats him to it. “Stiles, son. That’s enough,” he says, inching further inside the circle.

It takes a few beats but Stiles eventually comes back to them. It worries Derek a little, how much power Stiles can wield. And Jordan mentioned other elements, if he can control more than fire and lighting, fuck-he doesn’t want to think about it. 

“Sorry, I-Jordan did it on purpose,” Stiles says, “that’s more what my magic looks like uncontrolled. “It will be better once I’m part of a pack.” 

“I know. Honestly it  _ was _ a little scary but I’m glad you came back to me,” he says, “Let’s go back to the house and rest. Lydia will take care of Jordan and I’ve got you.” 

“Lucky me. Just one minute let me say bye to dad.” 

“Sure but just for the record, he’s allowed to stay too.”

Stiles just chuckles, and it’s so good to see that humanity on him unlike when he was playing with lighting. He didn’t even look like the same person, but Derek trusts that once he’s part of the pack Stiles will be able to control all the facets of being a spark. 

Stiles comes back to him, smelling of warmth and happiness. It might possibly be the most intoxicating scent Derek has ever inhaled.

“Take me home, Big Bad.” 

“You are home,” Derek answers, rolling his eyes.   


“I know I just wanted to hear you say it,” Stiles grins over at him, smelling of mischief and something deeper, he wants to chase that scent but he controls himself, instead letting out a huff of exasperation. 

His ridiculous mate nearly gave them all heart attacks but the sated warm smile on his face is enough that Derek doesn’t mind the panic. He probably is going to buy something outrageously expensive for Kira though. She deserves it. 

  
  
  
  


Stiles envisions the battle of ‘endurance’ is something a lot sexier than it is. Well mostly that was just his overactive imagination and libido working together, but he thinks he could prove himself that way too, if Derek had been willing. But maybe not so much in front of the rest of the pack so this is probably better.

“I know you’re used to having magic and that it’s part of you. So I’m not asking you to turn it off, just like I can’t turn off being a werewolf but this test is about endurance not problem solving, got it?” he asks, and Stiles nods. 

“Lydia, if you will,” Derek says, and she looks confused, but moves closer. 

“Spark Stilinski, your challenge is to carry Lydia on your back as the rest of us act as obstacles for you to face,” Derek says and Stiles nods. “The goal is for you to last as long as possible, but victory is only acceptable if my beta remains completely unharmed. It would be better for you to tap out and rely on the pack for help than for Lydia to receive so much as a scratch, am I clear?” 

“Yes, Alpha,” Stiles says, and Lydia groans. 

“It’s probably a good thing I don’t have a wolf’s nose, yes?” she asks the group at large who are all snickering a bit. 

“C’mon, Lyds… upsie daisy…” Stiles says, patting his back. 

“I suppose I don’t have veto power on this?” she asks, before climbing as gracefully as possible onto Stiles’ back. She sighs, “At least I wore pants today.” 

He hitches her legs up around his waist and tells her to hold on tightly. 

There’s a makeshift obstacle course stretched out in front of him and individual pack members at every turn that are willing to take a few swipes at him and Lydia on the off chance he’s not holding onto her as good as he should, or he doesn’t protect her as expected. 

Thankfully Stiles dodges them all and he carries her around well beyond what they must have guessed because there are no more courses and he refuses to run the same one over and over again, the repetition might kill him if Lydia didn’t first.

After about six hours, Lydia says she’s had enough, she’s hungry and Stiles bites his lip. He doesn’t want to give up but he also doesn’t want to keep pushing her when she’s not eaten all day. 

“Lydia, do you trust me?” he asks, it’s a simple question and he expects a simple response but of course, it’s Lydia so what he gets instead is a skeptical sounding question. 

“Why, what do you plan to do if I say yes?” 

“And this is why you’re not a Disney Princess like Alli,” he says, only to get a thwack to the top of his head. 

“Ow fuck, Lydia. It was meant to be a compliment!” 

“What do you plan to do to me, Stiles?” 

“What? You say that like I’m going to drop you or something.” 

“Dropping me is the least of my worries, that line is never said before anything good happens,” she answers, and well he can admit she’s not wrong about that. 

“I just want to change the position!” 

“You are not carrying me like a baby,” she answers swiftly. 

“Will you just fucking trust me,” he snaps, they’ve both spent the majority of the day getting on one another’s nerves but she shuts up and nods her head. “Let go of my neck, balance yourself upright and I’ll do the rest.” 

And Lydia follows his orders instantly, she lets go of her grip around his neck and Stiles easily shifts her body around to his side, “Now lock your ankles together and you can grab at my neck again if you need to but I need at least one hand free.” 

“For what exactly?” she asks, and Stiles shakes his head at her. 

“To get you some food,” he answers.

“Or you could just end this and I could get my own food,” she offers motioning to the emptied area around them. “Can’t you tell they’ve already given up. You outlasted them, good job Stiles, now let me down.” 

“Lydia, you know why this is important to me. You can’t expect me to be okay with just giving up because the pack thought I couldn’t do more than a few hours like this,” he says, as he leans forward out from under the brush to get a view of the house, It seems empty but he doesn’t trust it. It’s too quiet and they might not have prepared for him to last this long, but Derek wasn’t just going to stay back and leave him alone either. 

“Stiles I’m tired, hungry, and obviously a little bitchy but I know that if we were trapped somewhere by an enemy, and I was badly injured that you would carry me to safety even if it meant somewhere hours and miles away, isn’t that enough?” she asks, and when it was said so concretely, he guesses maybe it is. 

“Alright, let’s go get something to eat,” he says, and eases her down to her feet. 

“Make one comment about the weight or lack of on your shoulders and I will end you,” she says, before happily trotting away on shaky legs. 

Stiles laughs, and as he figured, they do have a trap set up for him inside the house but Lydia just walks in and announces that  _ she _ is declaring it finished because if Stiles held onto her any longer she was either going to die of starvation or murder him for being annoying. 

Everyone celebrates with a large pack dinner of takeout from half a dozen different places and the night ends with big smiles and sated stomachs. It feels like home already. 

  
  



	6. Peter Hale Is a Drama Wolf

Stiles waits, very impatiently as Derek says the final challenge will take some time to set up. He says he’s obviously been underestimating Stiles and he doesn’t want to do that yet again. That this will undoubtedly be the hardest of them all but Stiles isn’t sure he’s buying it. He caught Lydia and Peter with flash cards the other day.. _FLASH CARDS_.

Pfft.

He’s got this. 

When the day comes, he quickly realizes that he’s been too damn cocky because he wakes up alone, Derek’s gone, and in his place is what he’s hoping is red paint. 

It’s not red paint. 

Stiles screams.

His brain goes into panic mode and the first thing he does is call out for the pack.

No one answers.

”Fuck fuck- they’re okay Stiles. It’s fine, this is just part of the test,” he says to himself, trying to calm down as he shakily reaches for his phone and calls his dad.

“Hey uh dad, have you heard from the pack or are you in on their final test?” he asks, knowing his dad might not be forthcoming but he won’t lie to him. 

“The emissary challenge thing? I thought that was tomorrow.”

“Fuck-” Stiles hisses to himself, covering the phone so his dad hopefully doesn’t notice anything wrong. “Is Jordan working?” 

“Parrish was dispatched to Fresno last night, what’s going on, Stiles?” the sheriff asks, “Stiles? Son? What happened?”  


“The pack- they’re gone. I don’t know if it’s real or-or if it’s a test but I woke up this morning to an empty house and there’s- I think there’s blood on the bed, Dad.” 

“Stay there, Stiles. I’ll be there in ten.

Stiles nods, because he can’t do anything else. He numbly goes through the process of putting on real clothes, using most of his energy to fight off the impending panic attack.

When he’s finally dressed, Stiles heads downstairs, stopping shock still at the door to the library. There’s a mess all over the table, Lydia doesn’t like mess and she’s practically the keeper of everything in the library. He’s pulled in closer and glances over the entire scene before picking out a few details. 

The index cards draw his eye and he remembers thinking about how ridiculous they must be trying to figure out his next challenge, but when he actually picks them up to read what’s written there, his heart clenches in his chest. 

_Derek is meeting with a pack in another state, out of the range of communication. Alpha Jamison requests permission to travel through Beacon Hills on their way to their annual ancestry celebration rites in Seattle. You are told that Alpha Satomi has already given her blessing and wishes for their safe travel._

  * _Also give a wish for their safe travel, and grant an immediate invitation._
  * _Check the calendar, Alpha Jamison’s pack rites are done only on the Blood moon roughly two to three years apart. If it is in fact the Blood Moon, grant an invitation._
  * _Politely inform them that since your Alpha is out of the territory, you will need at least twenty four hours, in order to try to reach him. As you expect, Derek is in fact unreachable. Your next step is to call our most trusted ally Satomi and ask for her advice._
  * _You would never allow a foreign alpha into the territory without Derek’s express consent, and approval._



Stiles honestly doesn’t even know which is more likely protocol. He wants to think that Derek would trust Satomi to help him make the decision, and maybe that’s it. But something about letting a foreign alpha into beacon hills without Derek actually being there, feels like a huge no-no.

But more importantly, Stiles understands that they’re not just flashcards. It’s actually shit he needs to know in order to serve as emissary to the pack and he’d been, fuck-he’d been so blase’ about it all. 

He really wishes Derek was there beside him so he could apologize. 

“Stiles! Stiles?” 

He must have gotten lost in the moment because the next thing he knows his dad is pulling him into a tight hug. “Look Stiles, I need you to stay calm but I called Parrish, he said the case in Fresno was bogus and he’s on his way back. We’re going to find them.” 

“They’re not even my pack yet. I-” Stiles starts, but the sheriff cuts him off quickly. 

“Like hell they aren’t,” he spits, “Since when do you need some stupid contract to care about people, kid? If you care about them, they belong to you. And if they belong to you, you do whatever it takes to get them back, right?” 

“Right,” Stiles says, nodding shakily. “We’re gonna get them back. I need my shit, take me to the house.” 

“Alright then, Tara and a couple of the others are going upstairs to see if they can find any leads but if I’m being honest, I think your way is gonna be faster here,” the sheriff answers, herding him down the stairs toward the front door. 

Everything passes by him in cold numb confusion, but eventually he gets back to his room where he’s got actual supplies that should help him track them. 

Stiles lines his pockets with the stuff he made up after reading Alice’s book for the third time, and then reaches for his crystals.

“Can I get you anything?” his dad asks, and though he’s distracted, Stiles manages to tell him he needs a map of California and the surrounding states. 

He uses the time while his dad is distracted to slide the silver blade over his fingertip and lets the blood drip into a copper bowl. He mixes in a few herbs and then drops the cat’s eye crystal into the bowl until it's coated in his blood. He grabs a piece of the same leather he used in their bracelets and ties it harshly around the slippery stone. 

Thankfully his dad comes back with a map. It’s not as big as he’d like, but hopefully it will do. Stiles begins the incantation as soon as possible and lets the spark inside him flow out. It’s probably dangerous, given how emotional he is at the moment and how untethered from the pack he feels but he needs to find them and he is sure, his spark will recognize them, contract or no, as his dad helpfully mentioned. 

The crystal starts to glow, red blood around it pools within and it drops just east of Reno. 

“I think I know where they are, call Parrish and have him meet us somewhere along CA-44 East. Let’s go,” Stiles says, pushing through the house with what feels like fire under his feet. He wants to _be_ there already but he hasn’t yet mastered teleportation so instead he goes straight for the cruiser and straps in. 

Stiles is tapping at his phone wishing his dad could put the lights on and get moving but he knows why that’s not just illegal but also a really bad idea. He’s got it narrowed down to one of seven locations which is still six too many but he thinks, once he’s closer he’ll be able to get a better idea of where they are and if Jordan can catch up with them before they hit Reno, that will give them an even bigger edge. 

“You’re quiet,” his dad says, and Stiles knows exactly what that means.

He’s worried. 

“Just looking up possible locations. I also texted my contact at the council.” 

“That’s smart in case you need to press charges,” the sheriff starts, and Stiles stops him with a look. 

“Yeah, of course. _If there’s anything left of them.”_

“Stiles,” he says, soft and tired as if he knows exactly what his son is thinking. 

“They’re mine, they belong to me and those-those assholes took what’s mine. If there is a single hair out of place on any of them, there will be no second chances,” Stiles says, seething in his seat from just the thought that one of his pack is somewhere being hurt, being- fuck, no he’s not going to think about it. 

“There have been many times where I thought, ‘my kid, just like me,’ and then, you’ll say or do something like this and I think no, no not me. You are your mother’s son,” his dad says, a sad but fond smile on his lips. “She was a force of nature, with or without magic and more importantly, what I see in you-” he says, pausing for a moment that just seems to grow between them.

“What?” Stiles asks, because he knows his dad didn’t mean to stop. 

“Claudia was a good woman, good person. She would help anyone around her if she could, but she didn’t really care about very many people. Oh but when she did...she loved them harder, more fiercely than anything or anyone I’ve ever seen.” 

Stiles watches his dad’s hands shake on the steering wheel but he doesn’t mention it. He knows in part, this is to distract him and it’s sort of working, so he doesn’t want it to stop. 

“She was possessive and protective of those she loved to a point far out of the realm of what is accepted as normal, but I just- I considered myself lucky to just be counted in those tiny few,” he says, and Stiles can see the small tear gathering at the corner of his father’s eye. 

“One time when we had just started dating, I uh, I wore my uniform to pick her up from the place she was staying with a few friends,” he starts, but Stiles stops him. 

“I appreciate what you’re doin’ pops and I’d love to hear this one day but not today. I don’t want it to be soured with everything going on. It should be a happy memory and I want to be happy when I hear it,” he says softly, and his dad nods in understanding. 

“When we get them back,” he supplies, and Stiles nods along. 

“Yeah, when we get them back.” 

It’s quiet after that, but about an hour into their trip Jordan sends a message and says he’ll meet up with them in fifteen minutes, and Stiles lets out a small breath of relief. It’s not the same as knowing the pack is safe but Jordan is part of said pack and seeing him will ease a little bit of the overwhelming emotions he feels, so he’ll take it. 

The fifteen minutes pass, not as quickly as Stiles would like but eventually Parrish pulls up beside them in his pickup, Stiles grabs his shit and gets out of the car.

“Follow us but not too closely, I don’t want them to see the cruiser and get spooked,” he says, and the sheriff nods, though it's clear he’s not really okay with how things are going. But neither is Stiles, so they can get the fuck over it, together. 

The closer they get to Reno the more Stiles can _feel_ they’re heading in the right direction. It’s not as comforting as he expected but it will have to do because there’s really nothing else he can latch onto that will reassure him that his pack is healthy and whole. 

“Look, I know from experience that saying calm down doesn’t really help in this kind of situation but Stiles, if you don’t get a handle on that, you could end up hurting someone,” Jordan says, about thirty minutes away from their destination. 

“They took my pack, I could give fuck all if they get hurt,” he says honestly. Jordan’s a fucking boyscout like his dad, Stiles’ morality is a little more grey, and as he mentioned, he doesn’t give a fuck about the people that took his pack from him. 

“I meant one of ours, or me honestly. You’re radiating anger right now and I’m the closest target.” 

Stiles knows Jordan is at least half joking about him being the target but maybe he has a point about the anger. He’s probably also leaking magic that he’s really going to need soon. 

He takes in a few deep breaths and tries to calm himself down. 

He’s fighting a losing battle, Stiles isn’t the kind of guy that can namaste himself to tranquility. He needs to see Derek, and the others, to know they’re okay. 

“I’ve not really had any control issues, so I don’t know what that’s like,” Jordan starts, catching him slightly off guard. “But I was watching Peter with Malia and this-” he stops, pulling Stiles’ wrist up to show him the Triskele side of his wooden charm. “This is the pack symbol for the Hale pack, you knew that right? That’s why all of our bracelets have them.” 

Stiles nods absentmindedly. 

“They use this symbol for control; Alpha, Beta, Omega, or Past, Present, Future. It reminds them that everything is tied together, connected. Time, Pack, Control. If the alpha is out of control, the pack is out of control; do you think that goes the same for Emissary?” 

“Take a right up here, we’re getting off the interstate,” Stiles says, trying to take in Jordan’s words but not really having a response for them just yet. 

“If you blow the doors off the place it’s not going to help anyone, Stiles. We need to be smart about this and I know you know that. We have no idea what we’re up again-”

“The Graven Pack,” Stiles spits. “I thought maybe Dunlop because I embarrassed him at the summit but this is beyond his wheelhouse. He’s still a kid and nobody, _nobody_ like him would ever be able to get at Peter Hale,” he says matter of factly. “Derek- he’s still fairly new to being an alpha and he didn’t grow up in the same times or circumstances as Peter. Whoever it is has a mage at their disposal and my money is on Tony Fucking Graven.” 

“Okay so maybe we do know what we’re up against, what do you remember about them?” 

“You mean besides the fact that one of their betas, probably on Alpha Tony’s order, tried really hard to get himself a statutory charge when I was fifteen?” Stiles spat, and Jordan is clearly surprised but he stays on the road, so he’s not going to complain. 

“Stiles-maybe you shouldn’t-” 

“You know your options Jordan. I’m going to save my pack. You can help me or you can waste time trying to control me or talk me down. I’ve known who was responsible since before we left Beacon Hills and I haven’t hurt anyone yet.” 

“Why do I not like the way you say _‘yet’_ ,” he asks, but Stiles doesn’t answer. Knowing Jordan, it was probably rhetorical anyway. 

Stiles navigates them to a warehouse just outside of Graven territory and without seeing them, he can _feel_ his pack is in there. He rushes out of Jordan’s truck but there are hands on him immediately, and the scent of Jordan’s stupid coconut lotion digging into his nose.

“Shh you’ve got to be smart about this. There’s at least thirty people in there, maybe only one of them is ours,” Jordan says, and Stiles knows he’s right but his body is surging forward against his grip all the same. 

“You’re not just a spark Stiles, you’re the sheriff’s son. You’re one of the smartest people I know. You need to make a plan and I will follow your lead but we can’t just go in blind,” Jordan says softly against his ear before lowering the hand over his mouth. 

Stiles doesn’t want to wait, he wants to charge in and just fucking surround his pack with mountain ash circles and slowly, methodically take the others out one by one with his bare hands but that’s probably just the testosterone and his ego communicating. He knows Jordan is right and they can’t just charge in with so many unknown variables. 

He reluctantly agrees to meet up with the sheriff who stayed a couple miles back. Thankfully they aren’t close enough to need to worry about turning the engine over again, and quickly make their way back to the cruiser. 

It takes longer than he wants. Of course it was always going to because as necessary as it is to have a plan right now, Stiles would much rather have eyes on his pack and make sure they’re okay. 

The sheriff calls for backup but they all know Stiles isn’t going to wait for them to show up, so it's part of their plan for him to go in guns blazing and for Parrish to make a less noticeable entry from somewhere else. They don’t exactly have blueprints to the warehouse but Stiles is relatively sure there has to be some sort of second entry, given the sheer size of the place. 

Stiles is adamant that his dad stay out of the fray until their backup arrives, which thankfully doesn’t seem to be too far away. He wishes he had a better understanding of the Mercer Pack but Alice had marked them down as trusted allies and put five little stars next to it. He sure fucking hopes that things haven’t changed over the last fifty or so years. 

He clenches the crystal in his hand and grinds it to dust with the power of wind before he enters the building. He has plans for the glass like shards and Tony Fucking Graven is going to have trouble breathing for the rest of his admittedly short lifespan. 

They come at him immediately, but Stiles is fueled by rage and belief that not a single one of them can touch him. He knows there’s a mage somewhere, it would have been almost impossible for them to capture the entirety of the Hale pack save him and Jordan, without some kind of magic. 

Stiles encases half a dozen wolves in thick rings of mountain ash before getting to the one he’s looking for. 

“Alpha Graves. If you wanted to talk all you had to do was go fuck yourself,” he says, and the Alpha gives him a smirk that can only appear on the face of someone who is clearly underestimating him. 

“Spark, it’s about time you showed up, I thought I was going to have to send you a severed body part to draw you out,” he says, in that smarmy fucking voice that haunts Stiles still to this day. It’s not enough to throw him off though, his pack needs him and he can stow his trauma long enough to deal with this shit.

“Yeah, well I had some errands to run,” he snarks, though everything inside him wants to go ahead and release the crystal slivers digging into his palm. 

“Cute, I was thinking maybe something recognizable,” he says, shifting to the side enough to show Stiles that Derek is chained up with something that is clearly causing him pain. He takes a long baton out and sticks it next to Derek’s crotch but before he can so much as think about doing whatever he has planned, Stiles releases the crushed fragments with an extra burst of wind to give them force. 

“Aht Aht,” he says, because something- no someone stopped the hit from making contact. 

Stiles has to figure out where the mage is and take them out if he wants to get at the Alpha, and he really fucking does. He wipes his bloody palm down the staff in his hands and carves a protection rune in the wood before sending it flying.

Just as Stiles suspects the mage is inexperienced and the staff lands exactly where he wants it which is underneath the chair Derek is sitting in. 

“Touch him and you die,” Stiles says, “Actually, scratch that. You’re not walking out of here either way,” he adds, stalking forward. 

There’s some more wolves that attempt to get at him but Stiles has them on their knees with the monkshood spray. He's careful to control the direction it’s held, how closely, and to make sure none of it escapes to hurt one of his, but it’s not easy. 

He does a mental headcount and someone is missing- no two someones.

So they didn’t get Peter or he’s working with them but Stiles doubts it. Not only is it too indirect for the dramawolf, but the other missing piece gives it away. 

Why he’s waited this long to do anything though.

He needs Stiles, that’s why. Not even the two of them could take out over a dozen werewolves. Though Stiles is sure they could do some serious damage. 

Stiles grins like he knows something that Tony doesn’t, because he does. 

“You’re like what, eighty? You’ve probably heard of the Blood Wolf, right?” Stiles asks, though Tony is probably half of what he’s guessed. 

“Is this really the time to discuss a cub’s version of the boogeyman?” Tony says with a put out sigh, as to say it’s annoying him that Stiles isn’t going along with his evil plan. 

“See that’s where you’re wrong, unless the boogeyman is real, which my sources point to no,” Stiles says, “You see I recently heard quite a few stories about how the blood wolf got his name and the lengths he’d go through to protect his pack. It was, shall we say, _inspirational_. I really connected with him on that.” 

“You don’t seem to know who’s in charge here, so I guess I’ll have to show you,” Tony says, pulling the baton back as if to hit Derek with it but Stiles’ magic has been seeping out of the staff below Derek for a solid few minutes and even if the Alpha can’t get free just yet, the magic will wrap him in a protective bubble, Stiles isn’t worried. 

“As I’m told, from a very reliable source, the blood wolf was at one time, no more than a human who loved his pack. As the story says, he loved them so fiercely and so possessively that even the most vicious Alpha, couldn’t compare.” Stiles continues, sending a surge of energy toward Tony, not enough to hurt him but enough to get his attention back on him. 

He’s pretty sure Peter will use it to make a dramatic entrance and he’s hoping Jordan is with him. 

“Pay attention, Tony. It’s rude to ignore your guest,” Stiles tuts, and then grins when Tony fully faces him, actually putting his back to Derek. It just shows him that the guy is still just as much of an idiot as he was nearly a decade ago. 

Tony growls, a thundering loud noise that would scare someone that was less of a man than Stiles has become. 

“So anyway, where was I..oh yes, so the human loved his pack beyond reason, beyond fault, and then, while he was sleeping, someone took from him what is most precious. They took his Alpha and his mate,” Stiles says, his mouth pulling into a frown. “Well to say he went crazy, is putting it mildly but my understanding was that he hunted that pack as a wolf would, even in his human skin. He found them, and every night for three months he systematically brutally murdered them the exact same way that they had done to his Alpha mate.” 

“Yes, that’s quite the story,” Tony spits, but he’s clearly not happy about the current situation. Stiles would reckon that he’d be looking to his mage if it wasn’t for the fact that he doesn’t want Stiles himself to know where they are. 

“Oh I’m not quite finished. You see that human man was blessed by the moon. The cubs he had with his mate were small, too young to wear the mantle of Alpha and so once his lust for revenge was sated, he cried out to the moon and he begged,” Stiles says, tilting his head to the side, he can feel them now. Jordan, Peter, _her_. They’re all ready. 

“He begged for mother moon to let him shoulder that responsibility and he was given that gift along with something else.” 

“Oh do tell,” Tony snarks, clearly not serious but the guy must know that’s not going to stop him. 

“He was blessed with the ability to fully shift into a wolf,” Stiles grins, wide and feral. “Sound familiar?” 

It feels wonderful to watch the color drain out of Tony’s face. 

“He’s- not real, and even if he was, he’d be long gone by now,” he says, and Stiles can tell he’s trying harder to convince himself than he is anything else. 

“Well you got that right, he’s not alive anymore sadly, but do you know who is?” Stiles says, and of course, like the drama queen he is, Peter stalks on four paws covered in tawny brown fur, cracking his neck the same way he would as a human. 

“Peter Hale, meet Tony Graven. He can die now,” Stiles says, and Peter lunges. Arrows whistle through the air and Stiles takes a running start and slides across the concrete floor until he’s at Derek’s side, undoing the chains around his wrists with very little effort because his magic has already done most of the work. 

Jordan walks in behind them carrying someone over his shoulder and Stiles doesn’t really have to look to know it’s the mage. 

“Alright, just so you know, not a fan of waking up alone. Never again, you hear me?” Stiles says, kissing gently at Derek’s sweaty forehead. He’s clearly still weak and Stiles bets the others probably are too but he thinks he’s stalled long enough to buy the Mercer pack time to get there. They should be close. 

He smiles when he catches sight of Peter’s bloody jowls and a lifeless Tony Graves still on the floor. It’s probably wrong, but fuck if he cares. His pack is okay and the asshole that tried to hurt them, tried to take them from him is dead. To him, that’s a win win. 

Alli is keeping all the snarling betas in check with the arrows but Stiles has hopes that they can be reasoned with. If they saw Tony for his psychopathic depravity and they’re willing to do better, Stiles might consider letting them go, with some light maiming or at least a very stern talking to. 

Stiles picks up his staff and he moves to the center of the warehouse floor. 

He uses the link of their bracelets, and Peter’s necklace to feed them strength, both literally and metaphorically. It’s going to hurt like a bitch later but it’s worth it if it means his can regain some of their power and they can get a better handle on this situation. He’s given about all he can of himself when he hears the siren of his dad’s cruiser and that’s when he knows everything is going to be okay. 

Peter is at his side as if he can tell what’s about to happen and is worried, but Stiles just ruffles his soft fur. “I’m okay, just get this mess cleaned up for me, yeah? Okay I’m gonna sleep now…” he says, and then the murky blackness of his subconscious overtakes him. 

  
  



	7. Mini-Epilogue

Stiles wakes up later, cradled in warmth and he has all but a few seconds to process it’s Derek before the Alpha is scolding him. 

“You should have waited-reckless Stiles-” he’s fading in and out so he doesn’t quite catch all of it but he looks up at Derek and it’s just. It’s such a fucking relief that he’s okay. “I love you so much,” he says, and Derek freezes against him. It takes a couple minutes for his brain to catch up to what he said and he almost starts to backtrack but fuck, it’s true so he can’t even try to claim he didn’t mean it. 

“That’s not a fix-all, I’m still pissed…” Derek says and Stiles figures that’s fair, he might not have thought it through as much as he should have, but he’s glad it worked out all the same. 

“Mmkay, DerBear.” 

“But y’know, I do too.. I love you too, Stiles. That’s why it hurts so much to see you practically use yourself as bait,” he says, and Stiles nods cause he’s pretty sure he would feel the same if their roles were reversed. 

“K, don’t get wolfnapped anymore and I won’t be bait, promise,” Stiles says, feeling a bit loopy.

“Okay, I won’t get taken again,-” 

“Wolf napped, say it Derek. Say you won’t get wolfnapped,” Stiles says, chuckling a little to himself. 

Derek sighs but he must be really fucking grateful that Stiles is okay because Stiles feels the soft press of lips against his cheek along with a quiet, “I won’t get wolfnapped, promise.” 

“Mmm good, wake me up when we’re home, k? K...tired, sleepy now.” 

“Rest, we’ll be here when you wake up.” 

True to his word when Stiles wakes up at least a few hours later, Derek is still right there beside him. He’s not holding him like a baby anymore which is actually kind of refreshing, but he’s there and warm and Stiles is just so fucking grateful it’s hard to breathe. 

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he says softly. “You can’t do that to me. I just-just fucking got you, all of you. I’ve been looking for so many years, for somewhere I can fit in, somewhere I belong and then you-you let me in, you didn’t ask for anything in return and you didn’t treat me like some kind of fucking trophy.” Stiles says, knowing he’s talking too fast, Derek might not be able to keep up but his emotions are all over the place and he’s actually, fuck, he’s starting to cry. “I just-you’re mine now, you can’t-you can’t take that back.” 

“Nobody is taking anything back, Stiles. If anything we’re only more convinced that you belong with us. After all, only the Hale Pack emissary could track us down like that, right?”

Stiles sniffles a bit as he tries to get himself under control. “Well I had a little help..” he says, “The bracelets, I used them to find you and then again later.” 

“But who made them? Who created the link? Sure,  _ you _ did but also, I think it might have been a little bit the Hale Pack Emissary, don’t you?” Derek asks, and the way he says it with such hope, Stiles wants to believe it. Wants to think he was theirs from the very start. 

“Stiles, as grateful as I was that you helped Boyd, that night at the club, that isn’t why you’re here now. I need you to know that. The first time I saw you, stumbling drunk and singing I’m a little teapot,” Derek says, his smile going wider “I knew there was something special about you. Erica and Boyd felt it too; Jackson probably too, not that he’ll ever admit it.” 

“Oh god,” Stiles groans, “I’m never going to live that down am I?’ 

“I don’t think so, no...but it’s worth it right? For this? For us? For pack?” Derek asks, clearly trying to comfort him and it works. Stiles feels oddly satisfied that regardless of his embarrassing mistakes, it has led him to what he can only describe as happiness. 

“For pack? Anything is worth it.” 

Then quieter, Derek says, “I didn’t know Peter told you about the blood wolf...he-he doesn’t talk about it much.” 

Stiles shakes his head, “He didn’t...Alice did.” 

Derek chuffs out a laugh as if to say he should have known as much. 

“Get some more rest, Emissary Stilinski. You’re gonna need your energy tomorrow,” Derek says, kissing him gently on the cheek. 

“For what?” Stiles bawked. 

“For me. I don’t plan to let you out of bed til sometime next week.”

“Dereeeek you can’t just say things like that and expect me to sleep!” Stiles whines.

Derek rolls his eyes, “Sleep my spark, we’ll have time for everything else later.” 

“Everything?” Stiles asks, and he’s obviously teasing toward the sexual nature but he kinda means it all. 

“Everything,” Derek says, like it’s a promise and Stiles is happy to take him up on it. 

  
  



End file.
